


oh darling, you're a million ways to be cruel

by raisuki (inthegripofahurricane)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eren being Reiner's crazy ex, Eren is a Shit, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Yandere Eren Yeager, but Reiner's not great either
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:20:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthegripofahurricane/pseuds/raisuki
Summary: Infatuation has a funny way of eating you from the inside, like a tumour, again and again and again.  Reiner spends his time wanting to die, and Eren obsesses over the past.(Or, Eren and Reiner over the years, and they're really no good for each other.)
Relationships: Reiner Braun/Eren Yeager
Comments: 104
Kudos: 267





	1. july, 2012

**Author's Note:**

> I have [twitter](https://twitter.com/raizularen) and [Tumblr](https://raitoyagamii.tumblr.com)  
> pls talk to me im lonely <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently people need telling this, no matter how many times I've said it. THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A DEPICTION OF A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP. Depicting and exploring a dynamic does not mean I think it's a good thing. That's all.

_Oh the blackness is murderous_  
_and the milk tip is brimming_  
_and each machine is working_  
_and I will kiss you when_  
_I cut up one dozen new men_  
_and you will die somewhat,_  
_again and again._

_`(Anne Sexton, Again and Again and Again)_

* * *

It had been the summer when everything went to hell. 

In Haling, the summers were always long and drawn out, the heat oppressive, seeming to cling to you like an overzealous lover. During the day, the streets were bereft of life as all the town residents stayed indoors, the sun too unbearable to manage for more than a few minutes at a time. Eventually, the strung-out days would seep into uneasy darkness; closer to the coast, the sea breeze would mitigate the heat, but inland, the sky remained dust-choked and polluted.

Reiner’s mother’s spells also grew worse in the summer. He blamed it on the hot nights—especially recently, when the AC had broken, and they hadn’t had enough money to get it replaced. It made the nights impossible to tolerate, and Reiner would often hear Karina get up and pace around the house in the middle of the night. More often than not, maddened by insomnia, she’d put the television on and light a cigarette, her eyes taking on a glazed-over quality, as if she were somewhere else completely. One of the few doctors they’d seen about it had told Reiner it was all part of her mental illness. That it wasn’t her fault.

Regardless, her ennui had pushed Reiner out of the house, for the most part. When he’d been younger, he’d doted over her when she was in these states, convinced if he could just love her enough, she’d get better. But his presence would only seem to aggravate her. 

For this reason, Reiner had spent a great deal of time up on the hill, with Annie, helping her father with menial work, cloaked in tall pine trees and thick shrubbery.   
Him and Eren had met through Armin, technically. Armin Arlert—honours student, certified goody-two-shoes, et cetera—quite frankly, the last person on earth Reiner would expect to have Annie Leonhart fall for him. But during that summer, they’d become inseparable, seeming to spend damn well all their time together. Their bond wasn’t something Reiner could pretend to understand, but he supposed it was nice to see Annie smiling occasionally.

It had been the four of them, that afternoon: Reiner, Annie, Bertolt and Armin, passing around a bottle of extra dry vermouth. Eighteen years old, freshly graduated; Armin and Annie would be off to college in a couple months. Years later, Reiner would pick those few hours apart with the vigour of a monomaniac, debating to himself whether or not he would have changed the series of events that preceded his introduction to Eren Yeager. 

Eren was Armin’s friend, after all; they’d first encountered one another in the orphanage wherein they spent the majority of their formative years. When they’d both turned sixteen, Armin had begun working and moved in with another friend, on top of staying in school, whereas Eren had dropped out, disinterested in academia, and started working at the diner around the block. Reiner remembered him vaguely when he’d still gone to school, although they’d never spoken.

It was the first glimpse Reiner had of Eren, at least, that he remembered properly. Even then, his face had been twinged with familiarity, but perhaps that was simply because Reiner found it so difficult to imagine a world in which Eren’s face didn’t spark a kaleidoscope of anger, adoration and resentment. Occasionally, when looking into the past, Reiner had the impression of time flowing backwards, forwards, bending backwards to influence itself—everything happening all at once. 

“Mikasa is looking for you.” Those had been the first words that came from his mouth, not directed at Reiner, but at Armin. He’d shouted it up the hill, where Reiner and his friends sat on the slope. Reiner had brushed his fingers through amber strands of dead grass, plucking them from the ground and letting them slip through his fingers. 

Armin sat up; cheeks flushed. Reiner could tell he wasn’t used to drinking, at least not to the extent that the rest of them were. The three of them had used to skip out on school back in freshman year to go sit next to the train tracks and drink generic-brand vodka. Those afternoons had been when they’d truly gotten to know one another, over swigs of rancid liquor secrets had spilled out in a disinhibited stream, never to be repeated. 

Eren stood below them with his arms crossed over his chest. He’d grown much taller since dropping out of high school, his shoulders broadening, and in the sunlight, Reiner had noticed the curves of the muscles in his back, the deep hue of his complexion, the flash of his eyes. 

“I’m busy,” Armin said with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“You don’t look busy.” Eren said, deadpan.

“We’re trying to help Annie’s dad tear down the shed.”

Eren reached into his pocket and plucked out a pocket of Marlboros. He placed one between his teeth, his eyes flitting towards Reiner. He leered. 

“What does she want, anyway?” Armin asked. 

“Fuck knows. All I know is that I don’t want to be the person to tell her no.” Eren’s eyes moved to Reiner once again. In Reiner’s memory, it lingered for longer than normal, but perhaps that had been the same veneer that coloured all of his memories of Eren. Eren lit the cigarette, tearing his gaze away.

“Whatever.” He muttered, then he’d left, his impression staining Reiner’s mind for the rest of the day. Reiner had watched him retreat, unsure of what exactly prevented him from looking away. Like a car crash. 

That was how it started. 

* * *

When Reiner returned to his home, his mother was half-asleep in front of the television, a few empty cans of beer at her feet, Fox News bleating away. 

“Is that you, honey?” Her voice had become naturally hoarse—a combination of chain smoking and a lot of shouting. 

“Yeah, mom. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I just fell asleep.” She sat up, pulling her blanket with her. Her blonde hair was pulled off her scalp in a tight ponytail. “How were your friends?”

“They’re good. We helped Mr. Leonhart pull down his shed.”

“That’s nice of you.” Karina said with a smile, eyes bleary. “You can get a beer from the fridge, if you’d like. Get me one while you’re at it.”

Reiner obeyed, returning with two cans of ice-cold Stella. His mother’s lifelong favourite. He pushed one into her hand, and she patted his arm.

“I bet Mr. Leonhart was happy to have you there. You’re getting so big nowadays, I can barely believe you used to be my little boy.” Karina cracked open her beer, reaching to the coffee table for her pack of Newports. “I bet Annie was happy you were there, too.”

Reiner groaned. “Trust me, mom, it’s not like that.”

“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t, with how handsome you are.” She pinched his cheek. Reiner swatted her hand away. 

“Annie has a boyfriend, anyway.” He grumbled.

“She does? What’s he like?”

“He’s nice. Nerdier than I’d expect for Annie, but he’s nice.” Reiner scratched the back of his head, thinking of something else to fill the silence. “He’s really smart.”

“You’re really smart.”

“I’m really not. I barely passed high school.”

“If you’re stupid, honey, I don’t know where the hell that puts me. I remember even when you were small, I’d read through your work and see words I didn’t even know…” She lit her cigarette, a billow of smoke appearing above her head, then dissolving into the half-darkness. “Those grades don’t mean anything.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“I mean it. I’ll bet you’re smarter than most the kids that get shipped off to Harvard.”

Reiner took another sip of his beer and got to his feet. “I’m going to get to bed.”

“Alright, baby. Sleep well. You got work tomorrow?”

“Nah. Tomorrow’s my day off. How about you?”

Karina didn’t look at him, eyes flitting back to the television screen. She sniffed. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She said, drawing her legs up to her chest, like a child. “They let me go earlier.”

Reiner stopped in his tracks. He was disappointed, but ultimately unsurprised. 

“Oh, mom, I’m sorry…” He cleared his throat. “…What happened?”

“I had a… disagreement with the manager. But it’s alright, honey. I’ll find something else. And this time, it’ll be something that will last.” She said it like she believed it. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.” Reiner paused. “Besides, you didn’t really like it, did you?”

“No. Next time I look for one, I’ll make sure I get one with healthcare insurance. They were a bunch of assholes at the old place…”

“Yeah. I’m sure the next one will work out better.” Reiner didn’t mention the string of service industry jobs Karina had held before this one, none lasting longer than four months. “Goodnight, mom.”

“Goodnight, honey.”

Reiner walked to his room in silence, still with the can of beer in his hand. Once he reached his room, he closed the door behind him, locking the door while he was at it. As he lay back in his bed, Reiner found his thoughts drifting to the strip of brown skin he’d seen when Eren had stretched out his arms. 

* * *

The second time Reiner met Eren, he’d been dropping into the diner on the corner for a coffee, a week after Eren had appeared on the hill. It was an impulsive decision, since Reiner had craved something to keep him going after getting back from the gym. When he first walked in, Eren was leaning against the counter, staring at his phone. 

“Aren’t you supposed to pretend like you want to be here?” Reiner said, approaching him. Eren looked up, expression flat. He tucked his phone into the back of his jeans. 

“It’s fine, as long as Levi doesn’t see me.” He said, sounding bored. 

“And if he does?”

Eren shrugged. “He probably wouldn’t fire me.”

“Probably?”

“Probably.” Eren’s face was still impassive. Back when he’d seen him in high school, he didn’t remember him seeming this standoffish. “Can I get you something?”

“Just an americano, please. Black.”

Eren did as he was told, turning around and pouring Reiner a cup of dark, fragrant coffee. He pushed the mug across the counter, eyeing Reiner’s gym bag. 

“Tired?”

“A little.” 

Eren nodded, turning around and wiping the counter. Behind him were rows and rows of jars, filled with dark coffee beans, various shades of sugar, and a rainbow of different teabags. Reiner found himself wanting to carry on the conversation, despite Eren’s apparent disinterest. 

“How long have you worked here?” He asked.

“Two years, since I dropped out. Mikasa’s cousin owns the place, so I guess I have her to thank.”

“What’s it like?”

Eren considered for a moment, pouring a stream of black coffee into a white teacup. “It’s not so bad.” He said, after a second. “I mean, the pay is terrible, ‘cos Levi’s a cheap fuck, and we have barely any customers, so the tips aren’t great either, but I got insurance. And dental. So, I guess it’s not so bad.” Eren checked his watch. “I think it’s time for me to go for a cigarette break.”

Reiner slurped down the remainder of his coffee. “I’ll come with you.”

“Do you smoke?” Eren asked, head cocked. He was wiping his hands on a loose tea towel.

“Occasionally.” That was true enough. Reiner would steal the occasional cigarette from the packs his mother left lying around, or share a smoke with Annie if he’d had a few drinks, although the habit never quite stuck. 

They walked outside, to the alley adjacent to the diner, caked with yellow dust and webs of graffiti. Eren leaned against the wall, tilting his head backwards and sighing. 

It was the most emotive Reiner had seen him. At least recently. His few memories of Eren from high school painted a far more animated picture than the apathetic eighteen-year-old in front of him. The two of them stared back at the road, lined with tarmac that had long since cracked from neglect. 

“You were on the football team, weren’t you?” Eren said, offering Reiner the carton of cigarettes. 

Reiner took one gingerly. “Yeah, I was.” He wasn’t particularly proud of the person he’d been in high school.

“I noticed you then.” Eren said. “I remember.”

“I wasn’t that good. I was alright, but there were better players than me.”

“I still noticed you.” Eren’s eyes locked onto his—a strange colour—a paler green than Reiner had seen before. He felt his cheeks heat up. 

“You did?” Reiner laughed nervously. “I wasn’t that impressive.”

“I noticed you, though.” There was a silence, and Eren threw him a look that could have been playful, Reiner couldn’t be sure. “Did you ever notice me?”

“We never spoke.”

“I was different back then.”

Reiner’s gaze travelled the expanse of the other man’s body, from his long, dark hair to his dirt-covered trainers. “I can see that.”

Different was an understatement. That scrawny, friendless misfit seemed long dead. Thinking about it, Reiner felt a flood of embarrassment at how he’d acted while he was still in high school. Sure—he’d been popular, but he’d never felt like he was being himself, instead leaning into another, inauthentic projection of himself. The confident, benign jock—friendly with everyone but friends with relatively few. When he looked up, pulling himself out of his thoughts, he noticed Eren was looking up at him. For the first time, a smile tugged at his lips. 

“I guess I’ve changed too.” Reiner said. 

“You only graduated two months ago.”

“Yeah, but still—”

“Eren? The fuck are you doing?” Eren’s eyes drifted upwards, cool as ever. A man had stuck his head out the door, a scowl adorning his features. Presumably this was Levi. “Who said you could have a cigarette break?”

Eren took another drag. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry. 

“What are you standing there for? Get back inside!” Levi was short and covered in tattoos that snaked all the way from the back of his hands to the nape of his neck. Diminutive as he was, he still looked like he killed people for a living. Or maybe just for fun.

“Just give me a moment,” Eren said, blowing smoke into the air, seemingly unmoved by his boss’s anger. Clearly Levi’s thuggish demeanour had ceased to affect him.

“Did I say you could have a moment? I said get the fuck back inside!”

Eren flicked his cigarette across the dusty ground. “I guess I’ll see you around.” He said to Reiner. 

“Yeah,” Reiner said, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

He watched Eren walk back towards the glass door. 

“Wait,” Reiner found himself saying. “What time do you finish work?”

The words had escaped his mouth without Reiner thinking them through—as if compelled by some invisible, impenetrable force. Maybe it was fate.   
Eren turned around. One of his eyebrows, thick, dark and straight, was raised. 

“I finish at eight.” He said. 

Reiner dug his hands into his pockets. “Do you, uh, want to do something after?”

Eren blinked at him. Reiner felt suddenly embarrassed, unsure of why the fuck those words had left his mouth, seemingly without his control. Why had he said that? Why would he think that—

“Yeah.” Eren said, after a moment. “Sure.”

Reiner didn’t know what to expect as he watched Eren leave work, hands deep in his pockets. He’d been given enough time to agonise over his actions for the past eight hours. Strands of dark hair had begun to escape the messy bun Eren liked to sport, brushing against the nape of his neck. The sun was beginning to set, the dust and pollution tinting the sky with an unusual hue—a muddy sort of purple. 

“Hey,” Eren said. Reiner couldn’t be sure whether or not he was pleased to see him.

What had compelled Reiner to ask Eren to meet him? He couldn’t be sure. Well, he supposed he did have an idea. It was because Eren was attractive. Nauseatingly so. In that conventional, turn-heads-on-street kind of way. In that could-be-a-model-if-he-actually-cared way. 

“Where do you want to go?”

“I can’t go to mine. My mama—”

“Don’t worry about it. We can go to mine.” Eren met his gaze, briefly. “My brother works late nights, so it’s cool.”

* * *

Eren lived on the edge of town. As they drove out, the town darkened around them, and as they stopped at a red light, Reiner clocked the skeletal woman sitting on the curb, rising shakily to her feet. She began to approach the car, her dress riding up her bony legs. She tapped at the car, waving through the open window. 

“You two boys up to anything fun?”

“Nah.” Eren said, lighting a cigarette. “Nothing.”

“You sound pretty miserable, honey. Sure I can’t take your mind off it?”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree.” Eren returned flatly. 

The woman kissed her teeth. “Whatever. Shoulda known you were a couple of homos.”

She walked away from the car and the light turned green.

“That was weird.” Reiner said, watching her retreating figure.

“I don’t think it’s weird, really.” Eren said, one hand on the wheel and one draped out the car, cigarette jammed between his knuckles. “Just sad.”

“How much further out are you?”

“We’re nearly there.”

* * *

The apartment Eren shared with his brother was above a butcher, one which had long since closed shop for the day. Eren parked his car, tossing his keys between his hands. The door was chipped, layers of paint peeling off in clumps. 

“Ignore the rancid smell of meat.” Eren said, grimacing as they walked up the stairs. “You get used to it after a while.”

Eren’s apartment was surprisingly spacious, if sparsely furnished. It was clean, too, with a window staring over the street below; clearly Eren’s brother had higher standards for cleanliness than Karina. 

“Lots of books.” Reiner observed. 

“They’re all my brother’s, not mine. Do you want something to drink?”

“What do you have?”

Eren shrugged. “Beer, I guess.”

“I’ll have a beer then.”

Eren withdrew two cans of beer from the fridge, pressing one into Reiner’s hand. With both cans under his arm, he leaned over the stove. There was a crackling noise, and flames leapt from the counter, tinting the end of Eren’s cigarette a fluorescent orange. Reiner looked away. 

“What does your brother do?”

Eren cracked open his beer, taking a few long gulps, then wiping his red mouth. “He’s a journalist.” Reiner nodded. Eren certainly wasn’t one to dress up his words in a veneer of politeness—

Reiner wasn’t quite sure whether or not this was a bad thing. He sipped at his beer. 

“Can I have a cigarette?” Eren nodded, tossing him the packet. “…Do you have a light?”

Eren groped around his pockets for a few seconds, then groaned. “Never mind.” He grumbled. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.” Eren shifted towards him, tilting his head up. Reiner flushed. Eren placed the cigarette between his lips, then, the grip on Reiner’s chin tightening, he pressed the glowing end of the cigarette to the end of Reiner’s. 

“Inhale.” Eren said. Reiner obeyed. A pair of marbled, pale eyes blinked at him, then tore themselves away. 

“Thanks.” Reiner said, his voice breathy. 

* * *

Normally, Eren presented himself as aloof and detached; this had been a recent development in his personality, the cause of which Reiner was still speculating. His demeanour while giving head, on the other hand, was vastly different. 

Occasionally, his teeth would graze against the skin of Reiner’s cock, making his eyes roll into the back of his skull. It wasn’t the first blowjob he’d received; a couple years back, Sasha Braus had given him head in the bathroom during Annie’s New Year’s party, and the few sexual encounters he’d had with women had involved some kind of attempt at oral sex. None, however, had gone above a particular threshold of pleasure, and hadn’t lasted long either. 

But _this_? This was different. 

Reiner’s dick hit the back of Eren’s throat, making him gag, and Reiner’s vision go white. 

“Fuck,” he said, through pants. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum.”

In an act of cruelty, Eren pulled back, dragging Reiner back from the brink of orgasm. He could have cried from the loss of contact. 

“For fuck’s sake.” He breathed. Eren blinked up at him, a line of drool rolling down his chin. Perhaps it was that sight, so debauched and perfect—maybe that had been the point of no return with Eren. The point of no return, when Reiner realised that perhaps they’d both been put on this earth to make one another miserable. But at that point, he knew nothing of the future—of time, in all its relentlessness. In its stubborn insistence in moving forward, and only forward. 

His hands tangled in Eren’s hair, dragging him back towards him and thrusting into his mouth. Eren choked, hand jutting out to grip his leg, his grip tightening until Reiner was sure it would leave a bruise. Tears had begun to spring in the corners of his eyes, tipping Reiner over the edge. He came hard, and Eren swallowed, digging his nails into the flesh of Reiner’s thigh.

Eren pulled back, panting. He wiped his mouth and fell back into the sofa. 

“Where’d you learn to suck dick like that?”

Eren shrugged. So, there it was again—that feigned indifference—the indifference Reiner thought he might have just managed to break through. 

The point of no return. 

When had it come?

In retrospect, it was still difficult to pinpoint. But maybe that was the beginning of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the approach I'm gonna take with this fic is shorter chapters but (hopefully) more frequent updates. Hope you guys enjoy.  
> This is partially inspired by all the crazy ex!Eren shit I've been seeing on twitter lately. Like the amazing art by @ColumboDumbo.
> 
> I wanted to depict a relationship in which yes, Eren is pretty yandere (as you will see in the coming chapters) but isn't entirely unrealistic. Hope you guys enjoy.


	2. january, 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't expect that many kudos on the first chapter. thank u all so much, and enjoy the update <3

Eren tapped the back of the phone with his nail, leaning backwards against the cool surface of the wall behind him. On the other end, the phone continued to ring, again and again. He waited for a few minutes, hopeful, until the flat sound of Armin’s voicemail recording bleated in response. It had been nearly a month since they’d last spoken—the longest stretch of time that Eren could remember Armin’s annoyance lasting. 

Eren sighed.

“They ain’t pick up, huh?” It was the guard across the room, a lazy smirk playing across his face. He was a large, muscular man, whose pale arms crawled with what looked like a childish approximation of tribal tattoos. “…Again? You can’t be very popular.”

Eren glowered at him. “I’m going to call someone else.” He snapped, punching another set of numbers into the receiver. 

“Fine. But if they don’t pick up, you’re going back to your cell.”

Eren tore his gaze away, resisting the urge to deck the guy. It certainly wouldn’t do him any favours. Over the years, his abilities to reign in his emotions had improved significantly, still, he found himself squeezing his fists hard enough that his jagged nails cut into the skin of his palm. He listened to the flat sound of the phone ringing. 

Fortunately, Mikasa picked up after the fifth ring. 

“Hello?”

“Uh, hey, Mikasa. I kinda need you to come get me.” He rubbed his temples, as if trying to push back the headache ebbing at his skull—the product of his hangover. He hadn’t slept well, either; not on the scratchy, thin pieces of fabric jails passed off as mattresses. Eren reminded himself once again, that he ought to cut back on drinking; his self-control was always severely diminished after a few drinks. Not that he was a frequent drinker, only that he had difficulty controlling himself on the rare occasions he did. 

There was a long, exhausted sigh. “You’re in jail, aren’t you?”

Eren didn’t say anything. Last night had been a mistake, even he could admit that. He’d found his fake ID while sorting out his room and used the opportunity to go drinking at the bar in the next town over. He’d tried to convince both Armin and Mikasa to come with him, but Armin was going through one of his phases of not talking to him, and Mikasa said she didn’t want to ‘enable’ him—whatever that meant. When he’d informed Zeke that he was going out with a friend, his half-brother had looked genuinely surprised. 

But Happy Hour wasn’t so fun when nobody wanted to drink with you. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Mikasa’s voice was strained. “For fuck’s sake. How much is it, then?”

Eren’s throat was dry. “A thousand.”

“Fine. But you’re paying me back.”

“I will.” 

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Eren?” Eren opened his mouth, preparing himself to say something. But no words came out. 

“Look, Mikasa. I’m sorry.” He said, eventually. He heard a discontented huff, then she hung up. 

* * *

Mikasa didn’t say anything as she filled out various forms, nor did she say anything as they walked back to her car parked outside. It was a cool, clear day—the sun, grey and dim, hung low in the sky. Mikasa’s car, a beat up 2008 Audi, was parked half on the road and half on the curb.  
Eren got into the passenger’s seat, a cigarette tucked between his lips. It was a habit he’d picked up from him brother, back when he first moved in with him five years back. Zeke had never really scolded him for smoking in the house, since he’d always done it himself, aside from the occasional barbed comment that Eren was too young to be smoking. Eren would always reply, sardonically, that Zeke had started smoking even younger than Eren. That normally shut him up. 

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Eren asked, as Mikasa turned the ignition. 

“If you have to.” 

For a few minutes, they drove in silence. The roads were mercifully clear, and soon they were cruising down the highway.

“Where’s your car?” She asked. 

“I walked.”

“You walked? All the way from Haling?”

Eren shrugged. “Didn’t wanna drive drunk.”

Mikasa snorted. “So, you _are_ capable of self-control?”

“I knew that if I drove there, once I’d been drinking, I would have just got in without thinking about it.”

“Then why keep drinking?”

“I’m not an alcoholic, if that’s what you’re trying to suggest. I haven’t gotten drunk in like, a month.”

“I don’t think the problem is alcohol, Eren.” Mikasa said thinly. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened until her knuckles turned white. “The problem is you. Why are you always putting yourself in danger?”

“I don’t do it on purpose.”

“Anyone who’s taken a single psychology class could tell you that just because you think you’re not doing something, doesn’t mean you’re not doing it on an unconscious level.”

Eren groaned. “Jesus, you’re psychoanalysing me now?”

“I’m just saying.” Mikasa sniffed. “Where’s Reiner in all this, anyway?”

Mikasa didn’t like Reiner and didn’t make much of a secret of it. She’d said it from the beginning—that him and Eren weren’t good for one another—and that he brought out all the worst sides of Eren. Maybe it was true. Of course, there were other reasons why Mikasa didn’t like Reiner, but they didn’t mention those. 

“He’s pissed off at me at the moment, so he’s not talking to me.” Eren explained, letting his head fall against the chilly windowpane. They continued down the highway, past rows of dead-yellow fields and squalid rows of houses, some adorned with confederate flags. 

“I hate it here.” Eren said, under his breath. “It’s such a shithole.”

“Leave, then, if you hate it so much.”

“I will, when I have the money.” Eren replied, cracking open the window to tap ash out onto the road. As they began to approach Haling, the sky began to spit with sparse rain. Eren flicked out his cigarette but and watched it disappear behind him.

“What happened, anyway?” Mikasa asked.

“This dude was chatting shit. I dunno. I don’t remember it that well.” Eren rubbed the bridge of his nose, attempting to piece together the few fragments of last night he remembered. He recalled talking to Reiner on the phone, a variety of harsh words being thrown back and forth. At some point, some guy had given him a funny look, and before Eren knew it, the guy’s face was a bloody mess. “I can’t remember what he did, exactly. I’m sure he deserved it.”

“That’s not funny.” Eren glanced over at her to see her brow was furrowed, her lower lip jutted out; she’d always pouted like that, whenever she was upset, ever since she was a little girl. 

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

They turned off the highway, down several residential roads; past rows of identical, detached housing. Something turned in Eren’s chest—a deep seated anxiety. They were in the nice part of town, now, presumably inhabited by swathes of nuclear families and their 2.5 children. 

“How many times has this happened? I can’t even remember how many times something like this has happened. You’ve been lucky nobody’s pressed charges against you.” Mikasa was shaking her head. “Are you even listening?”

They’d stopped at a red light. Eren was staring out at the street outside, at one house in particular, painted a pale pistachio colour, ringed by a pearly white fence.

“I used to live there.” He said softly. “With Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson.”

“Eren, I’m being serious. Can you listen to me?”

“Do you remember them? When we were in foster care?”

“Not really.”

“I wonder if they still live there.”

The traffic lights turned amber, then green. Mikasa’s car pulled away from the house, and   
Eren’s mind drifted to Reiner. They hadn’t spoken for a couple of weeks, no matter how many missed calls and texts Eren had left him, or how many times he’d come to call at his house. Eren couldn’t work out precisely what he’d done to piss him off so much, only that being ignored infuriated him beyond his control. Perhaps that had been part of the driving force that had led him here in the first place. 

“You know,” Mikasa said, breaking the silence, “whenever you get into a fight, you always claim not to remember anything after.”

“Because I don’t. It’s not a lie, if that’s what you’re trying to suggest.” Eren had been in more fights during his nineteen years of life than he could remember, and yet, the number of them he could recall in any detail was virtually zero. It seemed, sometimes, he’d see red then black out; the next thing he’d know, he was sitting in a police station with broken knuckles, blood and sweat drenching his clothes. 

“Have you considered going to community college or something?” Mikasa asked, “Maybe it would keep you out of trouble.”

“There’s no point.” Go to college and then what? Try and get a job? He’d been lucky to get a job with Levi in the first place. Nobody wanted to hire someone with a criminal record stretching back to childhood, and Eren had long since figured there was no point in trying anymore. 

“Drop me off in the centre.” Eren told Mikasa. She rolled her eyes. 

“I’m not a fucking taxi service.” She muttered. “Did you even listen to anything I said to you?”

“Sure. I need to try harder.” He gestured to the old fountain that sat by the main parade of shops.

Once upon a time, it had been filled with water, spraying upwards and outwards like fireworks, now, due to lack of funding to the local government, it had been allowed to decay, choked by weeds and graffiti, moss cloaking the statue that had used to be its centrepiece. “Here’s fine.”

* * *

Eren’s clothes still had specks of blood on them. It would be annoying to try and scrub them off before going to see Reiner, so he figured he’d do that once he got back home. 

He rang on Reiner’s doorbell, fixated on a spot of brown-red on his t-shirt. There was no answer. He could only hope Karina Braun wasn’t in, since the last time he’d seen her she’d been threatening Eren with an .22 rifle. 

Eventually, the door swung open. Fortunately, it was Reiner. 

“Hey.” Eren said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “…You haven’t answered any of my calls.”

Reiner’s face was blank. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk. Can I come in?”

“My mom’s gonna be home in an hour, so you can’t stay long.” Well, that was something at least. Better than the radio silence he’d gotten over the past couple weeks. Eren stepped inside, hands deep in his pockets. Reiner’s house was small and cramped, the floor littered with empty beer cans, the ash tray filled to the brim and the wallpaper, once white, had faded to an ugly yellow. Reiner shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

“Why have you been ignoring me?” Eren asked, sitting down. There was no point in beating around the bush, as his mother had used to say. 

Reiner was quiet. Instead, he slumped into the coach opposite and began to rub his temples in a circular motion. “What happened to your shirt?” He asked, eyeing Eren’s clothes. 

“I got in a fight.”

“What? This early in the day?”

Eren scowled, looking away. “It was last night.”

“Then why are you still wearing those clothes?”

“Uh, I got picked up by the cops after. I just got out.”

“For fuck’s sake, Eren.” Reiner laughed humourlessly. “You’re hopeless.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You still haven’t told me why you’ve been ignoring me.”

“Because we’re not good for each other.”

“What?” Eren asked, disbelieving. “Why?”

Reiner sighed. He looked tired, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to force the words out. Eren had been informed, over the years, that he had the tendency to come across as coarse and insensitive. So, he changed tac. “How’s your mother, anyway?”

“Not good.” Reiner said. “Not that you’ve helped.”

“Oh, come on. That’s not fair.”

“It’s true.”

“Look, I don’t know why you’re try to spin your mother being a bigot into being my fault, but—”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” Reiner snapped. His hands had balled into fists. 

“What? Because I’m right?”

“Just shut up.” Reiner buried his face in his hands. “Just shut up. Please. For once.” He looked tired; two bruise-like purple circles had appeared under each his eyes. “Fuck, I need a drink.”

Reiner got to his feet, heading to the fridge and returning with a beer in his hand. He cracked it open and took a long swig. After he was finished, he sighed. “The problem is that you’re manipulative, Eren.”

“Huh?”

“Every time we got into an argument, you’d make me feel terrible for being angry at you, even if it was justified.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“If I ever even _implied_ I might go away, I’d get scared you’d hurt yourself.” Reiner’s teeth were gritted, and he stared off in some indeterminate direction. “It scared me.”

“C’mon, you can’t be serious. I got pissed off, like people do when they get arguments. Now, let’s just move past this and let me sit on your face.”

“You’re doing it again.” Reiner said. “I try and talk about how I feel, and you’ll do anything possible to change the subject.”

“Fine, I’m sorry. If you want to talk about how you feel, do it now.” Eren was desperately trying to force Reiner to meet his gaze, but Reiner insisted on avoiding it. 

“I care about you a lot, Eren. But sometimes you make it hard.” That had certainly been something Eren had heard before. Over the years, he’d heard similar things from Armin and Mikasa. Eren thought about opening his mouth but decided against it. He was aware that his personality could be— _challenging_. ‘Challenging’ had been the word that haunted school reports, parent-teacher conferences and just about any other situation in which his personality had come under scrutiny. Eren figured if there were any point where he could have changed the ‘challenging’ nature of his personality, the opportunity to do so had long since passed. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Eren said thinly. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”  
Reiner shook his head. “Why can’t you be more considerate?”

“Huh? Considerate how?”

“Like thinking about the impact of how you act influences people.” Reiner sank further back into the cushions of the sofa. “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you. It’s basic empathy.”

“Basic empathy? I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” Eren didn’t appreciate the implication that he lacked empathy—that he was some kind of psychopath. Psychopaths were supposed to feel nothing. That was what Armin had told him, having started taking psychology classes at college. But Eren felt everything and had done so all his life—to the point where it overwhelmed him; it choked him like rope tightening around his neck. 

Reiner said nothing.

“I’m not a monster.” Eren said sourly.

“I never said you were, I’m just _saying_ —”

“But that is what you’re saying.”

“For fuck’s sake, Eren. Not every criticism of you is an attack on the fundamental aspects of your character.”

Eren sat down, simmering. He began fiddling with a loose strand of hair, finding himself filled with uncontainable feeling, threatening to burst out. 

“I’m sorry.” He said lowly. He could feel Reiner’s gaze boring into his back. The other man had a way of looking at him that always took him aback; his eyes were narrow and serious, a pale hazel in hue. Whilst Eren’s eyebrows tended to naturally fall into a furrow, making him appear to be constantly scowling, whereas Reiner’s face naturally fell into an amiable, approachable expression. That had probably been part of what had made him so popular during high school.   
Eren’s memories of high school were sparse, partially on account of the fact that he skipped the majority of it. Then again, his memories of his early teenage years all took on that quality, coated with a strange, ethereal sheen—as if the memories didn’t belong to him at all.

“I guess I’m glad you’re sorry.” Reiner said gruffly. “That’s something. You never want to apologise.”

Eren didn’t like that Reiner thought he was manipulative, he really didn’t. He wasn’t some kind of monster. But clearly Reiner perceived what he saw as a genuine expression of emotion as an attempt at manipulation. Eren couldn’t help but seeing that as _not his problem._

But he didn’t want Reiner to go, either. He loved him. He loved Reiner more than he’d loved anyone since his mother died, he loved Reiner so much it scared him sometimes; it was a feeling that enveloped him in his entirety—so much so that when he imagined himself without him, he saw nothing but a great, ugly, gaping chasm. Eren felt a lump in his throat. 

“So…” he said slowly. “What now?”

For a few moments, Reiner was silent, seemingly pensive. 

“Now,” Reiner said, “I don’t think I want to see you anymore.”

There it was. An invisible punch to the gut. Eren wanted to say that hearing that made him want to die, more than anything else, but he supposed that would only prove Reiner’s point, even though it was the truth. Eren bit his lip. 

“You don’t mean that Reiner.”

“I do.”

Eren felt a migraine coming on, hot and sharp, beginning in the back of his skull and working its way forward. He felt a grin spread across his lips; perhaps it was the primal instinct to bare his teeth. Something within him that was feral. 

“C’mon, Reiner. Don’t leave.” He said, still smiling. “Not like everyone else.”

Reiner’s gaze was withering. He got to his feet and stared down at Eren for a moment, who couldn’t help but feel naked and vulnerable under his gaze. 

“You really can’t help it, can you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you'll see, this fic jumps backwards and forwards in time a lot. so if certain aspects are confusing, hopefully they'll become more clear as the plot continues.  
> I've planned for 21 chapters, although that might change in the future.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, I love hearing feedback x


	3. august, 2012

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading, as always. hope you guys enjoy <3

Reiner’s head was pounding. 

His shift at work had got to him—there was no other explanation. It wasn’t a rare occurrence for him to come out of work feeling, well, _overwhelmed_ —but today it was worse than he could ever remember it being. His place of work, a kitschy boulangerie situated in the more middle-class part of town, tended to attract the more pretentious of Haling’s residents. He blamed the manager and owner, an insufferable second-generation immigrant from Brittany, for attracting such an unsavoury clientele; for some reason, everybody who stepped through the door seemed to make it their life mission to make Reiner’s life a living hell. He found the customers were considerably worse at the fancy places he’d worked at—it had to be the entitlement, he supposed. At least the tips were decent. 

But today had been more of a nightmare than normal—it had been busier than Reiner could ever remember it ever being and the place had been beyond understaffed. This had resulted in numerous complaints, some referring to the speed at which food had come out, some referring to Reiner’s conduct, which was, to say the least, flustered. It hadn’t helped that Reiner’s manager had seemed to take out all his frustrations on _him_ in particular, for whatever reason, nor that his mother had left him about a dozen missed calls. She was in one of her insecure phases, apparently afraid that Reiner was a flight risk. 

When he finished work, Eren was waiting in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette. His hair, normally pulled out of his face, fell around his shoulders. Reiner approached him, gesturing to the carton of cigarettes in Eren’s hand without saying a word. 

“Rough day?” Eren asked, one eyebrow raised. Reiner nodded wordlessly, leaning forward so Eren could light his cigarette. The end glowed red, and Reiner inhaled deep. Eren was watching him, his expression unreadable. “What happened?”

Reiner liked Eren, since they’d began seeing one another just over a month ago; he liked that Eren was exciting and charismatic, he liked running his hands through his long hair, and he liked his dry sense of humour, even if it occasionally verged on the cruel. There was something charming about it when you weren’t on its receiving end. 

“Customers are dicks. And my mom…” Reiner trailed off, unsure of what to say. “I don’t know. She’s being difficult.”

“I see.” Eren said. Eren never bothered with suggesting solutions to Reiner’s problems, but Reiner found that he admired that about him; he was happy to just listen, with the occasional vindicating eye-roll. For a moment, they both stood there in silence. It was only six in the evening, but somehow it felt like the middle of the night. 

“Sometimes,” Reiner began, “I just want to scream out in frustration, you know, I wanna just snap and dump the customers’ food all over their head. Maybe that would make it better.” He looked down at his shoes. “I don’t know. It probably wouldn’t, though. It would just get me the sack.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eren asked, voice low. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we could take a drive. Get outta here, y’know?” Eren tapped the end of his cigarette, ash tumbling to the concrete below them. “I know I always wanna get out of here, especially when I’m upset.”

Reiner watched a train pull into the nearby station, people flooding inside—people also, seemingly, desperate to be anywhere else but here. The sky was a murky, late-summer red; dotted with the foggy stars and the milky face of the moon. The air stunk of cannabis and petrol. 

“Yeah,” Reiner said breathily. “Let’s get out of here. Please.”

* * *

Eren drove like a maniac. 

Reiner didn’t think it was a deliberate choice, but rather a result of not noticing the reading on the speedometer gradually creeping upwards, sometimes ten or twenty over the speed limit. He’d noticed that about Eren: an apparent indifference to his own wellbeing. 

“Eren,” Reiner said, reaching instinctively for his arm. “You’re going at a hundred.”

“Am I?” Eren looked genuinely surprised. “I guess I am.” His foot eased off the gas. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Reiner said. His arm returned to his own lap. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“The beach.”

“Which one?”

“There’s a place called Annabel Cove, it’s real nice. Me, Armin and Mikasa used to go there all the time.”

For a moment, Eren’s eyes clouded over, as if he were lost in thought. 

Eren didn’t bring up Mikasa and Armin a lot, aside from mentioning once or twice that they’d ‘grown apart’ over the past couple of years. Eren had claimed there was no particular reason for this, but Reiner could tell from the tension in his jaw whenever they were brought up, that he wasn’t telling the entire truth. 

“I remember you guys in high school,” Reiner said softly. “You were inseparable. I don’t think I ever saw one of you without the other two there.”

“Yeah, we were. Back then, at least. It’s fine, though.” Eren continued, fiddling with the radio. “People grow apart. It’s what happens.” He spoke like it didn’t bother him, but Reiner could hear the hurt in his voice. 

“I understand.”

“Tell me about work,” Eren said, turning on some generic pop station. He wouldn’t meet Reiner’s eyes. “I wanna hear all the grizzly details.”

“God, I don’t wanna relive it.” Reiner returned with a groan.

“Oh no,” Eren said coolly. He met Reiner’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. “Who do I need to kill?”

“Probably about fifty percent of the adult, white middle-aged female population.” Reiner replied, letting his hand dangle out of the window. “A woman complained today that one of her kids had more ice cream than the other. Like, what the fuck? What the fuck does that even mean? They both had two scoops of ice cream. And they were nasty little assholes, too, they kept running all around the place. One of them spilled peas all over the floor, and none of them bothered to even try to clean it up.”

“People fucking suck.”

“This job wouldn’t be so bad, y’know. If it weren’t for the customers.”

Eren chuckled, stopping at a junction. As he was about to pull out, a group of teenagers ran out into the road, causing Eren to brake unceremoniously. One of them turned to look back at the driver’s seat, flashing a row of yellow teeth.

“What the fuck?” Eren hissed, slapping the wheel with his hand. “What the hell is wrong with people?”

“It’s like you said—people fucking suck.”

“You can say that again. Next time, I swear, Imma just run them down.”

“They probably deserve it.” 

“Yeah, they fucking _do_. I swear to God, one of these days Imma snap and just run ‘em down. Just to see the expression on their face.” They turned onto another road, Eren still seething. 

“You probably will end up running someone over. Driving like you do.”

“What are you talking about? I’m a great driver.”

“Mmm. Sure.”

“I first drove a car when I was thirteen.”

“That sounds terrifying.” Reiner replied flatly, although he found himself unsurprised.

They carried on driving, past various nameless towns, until the buildings began to thin out and there was nothing but empty fields. 

“It’s nice around here.” Eren said. “It’s peaceful. I like being places where you can just look out and out and there’s nobody in sight.”

The sky was rapidly darkening, the sun beginning to slip behind the horizon. It was still hot, though, although it wasn’t quite as sweltering and overwhelming as it was during the day. They pulled into a small, coastal town, filled with nearly arranged, pastel-coloured houses and independent boutiques. In the streets, people spilled out from a variety of restaurants and bars, smoking and laughing.

“It’s pretty around here.” Reiner observed. 

“Yeah. It’s way nicer. Me and Armin found this place by accident when we got lost.” Eren slowed down as they approached a crossing. “I wish I’d been born here instead of Haling.”

“You don’t like Haling?” Reiner said, looking over to grin at Eren. “You’ve never mentioned it.”

“You have a smarter mouth than I realised. I quite like it.”

They were getting closer to the coast, through blankets of inky darkness, the black ocean glittering through the night. They reached a parking lot, where Eren stopped unceremoniously. 

“We need to walk from here.” Eren said, yanking the handbrake towards him. 

Reiner followed him up the slope of grassy hill, then down a narrow, winding footpath. Eventually, the dark walls of the footbath broke, leading to a completely empty beach, covered in fine, almost luminescent sand. The air smelt of salt and rain. Reiner trod off after Eren, sand crunching beneath his feet, his tiredness having mostly disappeared. For a while, they walked in silence towards the shoreline, where the water lapped at the bay, the wet sand catching the moonlight. 

“You’re right,” Reiner said, looking around. “This is nice.”

“Yeah, I have excellent taste.” 

Outside, the air had sunk to around seventy or eighty degrees—a far more bearable temperature. They walked with their jackets slung around their waist, and Eren withdrew a half-empty bottle of vodka from the glove compartment. He dangled it between his thumb and ring finger. 

“Just in case,” he said, looking at Reiner with a half-smirk. The bottle glinted slightly in the dark.

“What? Straight vodka from the bottle? Are you fifteen?”

“What can I say? I’m old fashioned like that.” As Eren walked, he seemed to swagger; it seemed so divorced from the Eren he remembered from high school. Sometimes he wondered what exactly had happened between the ages of fifteen and eighteen to make Eren so drastically different; perhaps it was just one of the inevitable consequences of growing up.

“Thanks for this.” Reiner said quietly. “I didn’t even know it was what I wanted.”

Eren nodded in acknowledgement but said nothing. They continued down the stretch of sand. 

“Let’s sit here,” Eren said, as they approached a small formation of rocks, forming a peninsula into the sea. 

“You’re gonna be finding sand in your underwear for the next month.”

“I don’t appreciate the implication that I don’t know how laundry works.” Eren deadpanned, stretching back further into the sand. Reiner sat down next to him, dusting his pants off. 

“Pass me that,” He grumbled, reaching for the bottle between him and Eren. He took a short swig, wincing as the lukewarm vodka hit his tongue. “God. That’s fucking vile.”

“Don’t know how long it’s been in there, to be honest.”

“Are you trying to poison me?”

“Vodka never goes off. You can keep an open bottle for like, twenty years.”

“That sounds fake.”

“It’s true! I remember reading it. Pass it over.” Eren pulled it from him and drank. “You’re not wrong, though. Tastes like battery acid.”

“This really takes me back, y’know. Me, Bertolt and Annie used to go sit by the train tracks and drink until we needed our stomachs pumped.”

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t have thought. You always seemed like a good boy.”  
Reiner huffed. “Not necessarily.”

“Nah, you seemed like a nice, red-blooded all-American boy. Popular… athletic… tall. I was jealous of you.”

“No, you weren’t. You’re just saying that.”

“It’s true. I said it before, didn’t I? I noticed you.”

“ _That_ sounds creepy.”

“I did, though. I watched you loads.”

“Bet you tell all the boys that.”

“Of course, I thought you were straight, anyway. You seemed so masculine.”

“Yeah, well…” Reiner said, scratching his neck. “I dunno why I acted like that.” He stared off towards the ocean. “Maybe I was trying to prove something…” He teetered off. Thinking about it, he’d never even thought about it in that way, at least until now. 

“If you were, trying to prove something, I didn’t notice that.”

“I wasn’t perfect, anyway. I had to repeat senior year. It fucking sucked.”

They slipped into silence. 

“It’s weird,” Eren began, after a couple of minutes. “When I think back to high school, there’s these huge gaps in my memories. And not even that the details evade me, it’s like, these huge gaps in time where I can’t remember anything that happened.” He paused. “I look back at that time, and I try and remember the things I did, or how I felt. But I can’t remember any of it… and the few bits I do feel like a dream. It’s like trying to remember a film I saw years and years back. But I remember you, somehow.” 

Reiner let out a nervous laugh. “Should I be flattered?”

Eren stared off at the sea, his expression suddenly vacant. “Probably. I hated most the people there, even though I was only there for a year. I didn’t even know why. I just knew I did.” 

“Maybe I was the same. I had a lot of friends, but in retrospect, they all pissed me off so much…” Those days had been different, and now, seemed so far away; even though they were barely three months ago. He felt pathetic, in retrospect, that he’d spent those years so desperate for validation from his classmates. “God, I feel so embarrassed about it now…”

“Why?”

“Because I cared too much about what people thought of me.”

“That’s normal, isn’t it?” Eren said, turning away. “I’m pretty sure it’s normal to care what people think.”

“You don’t sound sure about that.”

“I’m not sure. Who am I to say, anyway? But people liked you. Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” Reiner said, frowning. “I thought it wasn’t. But I felt numb the whole time.”

“There you are.” Eren replied. He winced as he took another sip from the bottle. “I spent all that time thinking we were polar opposites. But maybe we were more similar than I realised.”

Reiner took another sip of vodka, beginning to feel the familiar heat pooling in his chest that came when he drank. He supported himself with his left arm, watching Eren watch the sea. After a moment, Eren shot him an accusatory glance. 

“Why are you watching me like that?”

“No reason. Just to watch you.”

“Now who’s creepy?” Eren sniped back, although he was half-smiling. A wave, spurred by a great gust of wind, crushed at their feet. Reiner leaned back, sighing.

“It’s nice here. I bet it’s pretty during the day.”

“Yeah. Armin was the one to show it to me, a few years back. I liked to come here whenever I was feeling overwhelmed.”

It seemed difficult, at least now, to imagine anything overwhelming Eren. He appeared, at the very least, to observe everything with an almost surgical disinterest. That made it all the more satisfying to see the rare expressions of what seemed like genuine emotion, the barrier to which Reiner was still chipping away at. 

“I wish I’d done something like that.” Reiner muttered, more to himself than anything else. Perhaps it was the liquor, diminishing his inhibition. “Instead, now, it’s just all—” He stopped himself. “Never mind.” He finished, lowering his voice. “I don’t know what I was talking about just then.”

“It’s fine.” Eren said. “If you think you can shock me with what you say, you can’t. I’ve heard it all.” When Reiner stayed quiet, he took it as an opportunity to continue. “I spent years in foster care. I’ve seen every shade of fucked up that exists.”

“Don’t say that. That sounds bleak.”

“That’s because it is. Bleak, I mean.” Eren sat up suddenly. “Jesus, I think I have sand down my ass crack.”

“Told you so.”

“You can laugh, but the same thing will happen to you.”

“Nah. My underwear’s too tight. There’s no entry point.”

“Alright, Superman. Drink some more of this and be quiet.”

Reiner eyed Eren sceptically but accepted the bottle anyway. “Should you even be drinking, anyway?” He asked. “You’re driving.”

Eren considered. “Oh, yeah. I suppose that’s true. I’m not drunk yet, fortunately.” He patted his lower stomach vaguely. “Liver of steel.”

“Your liver is in your upper stomach, dumbass.” Reiner said, reaching forward and prodding Eren in the ribs. 

“How should I know? I dropped out when I was sixteen. I haven’t seen a biology textbook in nearly three years.”

“I can tell.”

“Of course,” Eren said, his eyes moving to meet Reiner’s dead on, “there’s always the option of renting a motel and just waiting for the morning.”

Reiner considered—and in his heart, he wanted to do what Eren suggested. He wanted to drink until they were both dizzy, he wanted to ignore his life in Haling. He wanted to fuck Eren until he forgot his own name.

“I can’t,” he said, “I told my mama I’d be back tonight.”

“Can’t you tell her there’s been a change of plan?”

“I can’t. She gets… she gets anxious.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like… I don’t know. When I’m not there, she gets neurotic about it. I think she’s just worried…” Reiner sighed. “It’s like, sometimes, when I walk out the door, she thinks I’m never going to come back. She freaks out, y’know? I remember once, I went out to a party and told her I’d be back by midnight. Anyway, I ended up getting wasted and crashing there. I went back in the morning, and she was hysterical. I mean like, absolute hysterics. She was crying and breaking shit, it was like she thought I was dead—and that’s what she said to me, she said ‘I thought you were dead’. I felt so guilty I didn’t want to leave her alone for months after that…” Reiner cleared his throat, stopping himself. “Sorry. I don’t mean to unload on you like that.”

“It’s alright.” Eren said. “She must love you a lot.”

“I don’t know. It’s like she’s got separation anxiety or something.”

“She’s scared you’ll leave.” Eren said; he was lying back in the sand, his hair, half-falling from its messy fun, was partially fanned out. His eyes remained fixated on the sky above them. “I can’t blame her for that.”

“Yeah. I just wish she knew I wasn’t ever planning on leaving her…” Reiner said. And he was being honest. He’d never abandon his mother, like his father had, nine years ago—he couldn’t stand the thought. But Karina didn’t understand that, no matter how many times he’d told her; it was if she feared he’d slip through her fingers like sand. 

“She must love you a lot.” Eren said quietly. 

Reiner turned to look Eren dead on. Eren’s eyes were closed, one leg crossed over the other, his arms laid back to support his head. The papery skin of his eyelids quivered, as if he were dreaming. On impulse,

Reiner leaned forwards to brush his lips against his—initially, Eren seemed surprised, until he finally relaxed into it.

At first, the kiss was gentle, almost chaste, until Eren bit his lower lip, and Reiner slipped his tongue into his mouth. Reiner reached forward to cup Eren’s face, his thumbs slipping upwards to grip his face harder. Eren’s hands slipped into his hair, tightening, until his fingers began to tug, making Reiner groan. His hands moved to Eren’s shoulders, then to his ribs, running down to his waist. Although Eren’s upper chest was hard with muscle, the flesh around his waist and hips was surprisingly soft; as Eren’s grip on his cropped hair increased, Reiner continued to bury his fingers into the flesh of Eren’s hips, perhaps hard enough to bruise. 

Reiner broke away, slightly dazed. 

“Are you alright?” Eren asked. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” Reiner felt suddenly dizzy, perhaps from the lack of oxygen. He fell backwards, enjoying the softness of the sand. He looked out to the sea, in its infinite stretch, and thought about running towards it.

“Do you ever…” Reiner began. “Do you ever think about running away?”

He looked back to Eren, whose eyes seemed to glow. “All the time.” Eren said. His voice was hoarse.

Reiner kissed him again, marginally more gently this time. 

“Where have you been all my life?” Eren asked, when they pulled away from one another.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

At that moment, Reiner’s phone began to vibrate against his leg. Reflexively, he grabbed for his pocket, feeling a sudden panic begin to hammer at his chest. Meanwhile, Eren reached for his packet of cigarettes, which had fallen from his pockets.

“Hello?” Reiner said into the receiver. 

A voice began to drone on, relaying a series of information that Reiner found himself utterly unable to comprehend. His head began to pound with anxiety, making him want to collapse into the floor and disappear. The voice stopped, and Reiner hung up, staring out towards the sea, feeling completely numb. 

“What is it?” Eren asked, his cigarette held tight between his knuckles. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my mom,” Reiner said. He couldn’t bear to look at him, instead getting immediately to his feet. “I need to go back now. She’s in the hospital.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always love to hear you guys feedback.  
> I got a comment on the last chapter (which I ended up deleting, since I didn't think it was in good faith) saying I was 'sick' for portraying abuse. as I'd like to reiterate, this is not supposed to be a portrayal of a healthy relationship. just because I chose to explore a toxic dynamic doesn't mean I'm trying to romanticise it. Of course, there are romantic elements, since even toxic relationships can have periods of seeming romantic, just as they have periods of being horrible and toxic.


	4. march, 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh, I've had such a stressful week, y'all. anyway, enjoy this new chapter xx

When Reiner woke up, the clock arm was edging towards 4pm. A weight on his chest seemed to appear from the moment he opened his eyes, the same weight he’d felt for the past year, something heavy and crushing; it had been the same for ages, now, no matter whatever he did to attempt to alleviate it. The moment Reiner woke up, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. 

Syrupy light streamed in from the window, illuminating every particle of dust hanging in the air. After a few minutes of staring at the cracked, black mould ridden ceiling, Reiner forced himself out of bed to make a cup of coffee and a slab of dry, thin toast. He was supposed to meet Annie and Bertolt later for one of their monthly binge drinking sessions, and although Reiner wasn’t twenty-one yet, the place in they frequented tended to not ask too many questions. If he’d been in a different sort of mood, he might have looked forward to it, but right now, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but utter apathy. 

What was more, Annie had invited Marcel and Porco, two brothers who had used to live near Reiner around ten years ago, before moving away from Haling. Reiner’s memories of them were foggy, and he wasn’t looking forward to having to put the emotional labour into constructing a likeable façade to people he barely knew, still, he couldn’t really skip out; it wasn’t as if he had any excuse. If he didn’t go out, he’d only end up in front of the TV, drinking beers and watching old military documentaries. 

His mother still wasn’t awake yet, or, at the very least, hadn’t left her room. Reiner wasn’t concerned; for the past few months, that had been the norm. While he’d made some feeble attempts to get her to go outside, it didn’t hold much weight when he could hardly get out of bed himself. Karina preferred to stay indoors, making any excuse to get Reiner to go out on her behalf, citing a previously unmentioned agoraphobia. What was more, she insisted on keeping the curtains closed in the living room and kitchen, claiming that the morning light gave her migraines. It gave the house an air of disrepair and decay, at least when it was cloaked in half-darkness.

The kitchen was gloomy, despite the clear sky outside. Shards of orange light, filtered from the blinds, were painted across the kitchen table. The table in question was covered in cigarette butts, an empty pizza box, and, for some reason, glittering shards of a broken green glass bottle. Reiner gulped down some instant coffee, topped with double cream and lumps of sugar to disguise the rancid taste.

After that, he began to tidy up, starting by sweeping all the trash off the kitchen table, then cracking open the curtains to allow a trickle of light inside. After that, he began working on the piles of dishes by the sink. He’d read somewhere, once, that the best way to alleviate melancholia was to occupy your time and distract yourself, to choke yourself with activity until you didn’t have time to be sad anymore. Reiner didn’t feel any different to how he did when he woke up, but he supposed, at the very least, his home would look like less of a pigsty. 

Once he was finished, Reiner pinched a stale cigarette from the pack abandoned at the foot of the couch, smoking it as he finished his second cup of coffee. The tobacco had gone stale, burning the back of his throat. Finally, he hopped inside the shower, turning up the heat until it was nearly enough to scald, scrubbing at the layers of sweat and dust that had accumulated as he slept. Once he was dressed, it was nearly six.

When he left his room to fetch himself a beer, his mother was stretched out on the couch, her dressing gown wrapped tightly around her waist. 

“Are you alright, sweetie?” Karina called over. 

“I’m fine, mom.”

“Thanks for tidying up.” She began rubbing at her eyes. “You know, Reiner, I was thinking we could do something tonight. Rent out a movie, maybe order some takeaway… I could go out and get some popcorn from the convenience store…” She yawned. “It would be like when you were little, remember?”

“Yeah. I do.” Reiner said. For some reason, the thought made him want to wince. “That sounds nice, but I can’t tonight. I’m going out.”

Karina turned around to face him. “Who with?” She asked, her voice raspy. 

“Annie, Bertolt and a couple of other people.”

“Which other people?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that Arabic boy going?”

“What? Do you mean Eren?” Reiner felt a surge of something within him; although it disappeared as quickly as they came. “We don’t even talk anymore.” Reiner sniffed. “He’s not even Arabic, anyway, mom. You can’t just say that.”

Karina seemed to be only half-listening, groping around the surface of the coffee table for the remote. “I’m glad to hear it.” She muttered, after a moment. She’d ask similar questions whenever Reiner did go out, no matter how many times Reiner would tell her him and Eren weren’t involved anymore. “Perhaps we can watch a movie another night.”

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“What time are you leaving?”

Reiner checked the clock hanging above the door. “In like, half an hour.”

“You won’t drink and drive, will you?”

“Obviously not, mom. I’m getting the bus there and a cab back.”

“Good boy. When will you be back?”

“Dunno. Eleven? Maybe midnight?”

“Okay, honey. I hope y’all have fun.”

Reiner ducked back into his room, giving the place a quick tidy before he got changed. He even sprayed some of the aftershave his mother had bought him for his twentieth birthday on his collar. When he came back out of his room, his mother was watching the television. Bill O’Reilly’s ugly mug stared back at Reiner. 

“You need to stop watching this crap, mom.” He grumbled. “It rots your brain.”

“Mmm, sure. Are you leaving now?”

“Yeah.” Reiner reached for his phone to check if Annie or Bertolt had messaged him yet. Instead, he was greeted by a message informing him a blocked number had attempted to message him. Before he could think about it too hard, he shoved his phone in his back pocket, pushing the feeling of dread to the back of his mind. “I’m leaving now.”

“Alright. Be safe, honey.”

* * *

.The bar Reiner and his friends tended to frequent had a particularly lax policy when it came to the legal drinking age, but consequently the atmosphere left plenty to be desired. It blasted generic indie landfill from the 2000s, feeble neon lights projected across a sparsely filled dancefloor. Reiner was pretty sure they watered down the liquor to keep the drink prices low. Regardless, it was just about the only option they had in Haling. 

Annie, Reiner, Marcel and Porco were already there when Reiner arrived, along with a dark-haired woman Reiner didn’t recognise. Annie waved him over.

“There you are,” She said, as he approached. “I’ll order you a drink.”

“Not used to this kind of generosity from you.” Reiner deadpanned, sitting down in the only empty seat. Upon closer inspection, Reiner realised the dark-haired woman was in fact, Pieck Finger, an old friend of Bertolt’s. Reiner had only ever spoken to once or twice, but she’d always seemed uninterested.

“I’m always nice to you.”

Reiner let out a derisive snort. “How’s Armin?”

“He’s fine. Busy with university work. But he always is, I guess. Most the time he’s stressing out over nothing.”

“I still have no clue what he sees in you.”

Annie punched his arm.

“You’ve gotten a lot bigger since I last met you.” It was Marcel, getting to his feet to pull Reiner into a tight handshake.

Reiner remembered him as the well-behaved kid from middle-school—all dishevelled auburn hair and slightly chubby cheeks. A dusting of red freckles crossed his cheeks and nose. 

“Yeah, well.” Reiner felt his cheeks heating up slightly. “A combination of puberty and weight training will do that to you.”

Annie disappeared to the bar, returning a couple of minutes later with a tray full of Sambuca shots. Reiner groaned. 

“What?” Annie asked. “You scared?”

“Yeah, a little. I haven’t drunk Sambuca in… years, probably.”

“There’s two each.” Annie said, handing the shots out.

“I only need one.” 

“Now you’ve said that I’m assigning one of Bertolt’s to you. So, you can have three, Reiner. You’re welcome.” 

“I didn’t consent to that.” Bertolt objected, although Annie didn’t seem to have heard him. Either that, or she was just ignoring him.

“Pretty sure this is the peer pressure my mama warned me about.” Reiner said, although he still accepted all three of the shots pushed his way. He knocked back the first, enjoying the pleasant burning sensation at the back of his throat. As he slammed the empty glass down, his phone began to buzz from inside his pocket. Reiner checked the screen, his face immediately falling. 

“What is it?” Marcel asked. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“It’s nothing.” Reiner muttered. 

“You have to tell us now.” Annie cut in. “I’m curious.”

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

“Then why did you look so shocked?” Porco asked. 

“It’s just…” Reiner rubbed his palms up and down the legs of his trousers, trying to wipe the sweat off. “Eren refollowed me on Instagram, is all. As I said, it’s nothing.”

Annie groaned.

“You should block him.” Bertolt said.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Who is this guy, anyway?” Marcel asked.

“He’s Reiner’s crazy ex.”

“He’s not crazy—”

“He’s fucking nuts.” Annie said, voice flat. “Like, properly psycho.”

“Think Glenn Close in _Fatal Attraction_ meets Yuno Gasai from _Future Diary_.”

“Future what?”

“It’s weeb shit.” Annie added distastefully. 

“Whatever. Anyway, you left out the fact that he’s _Armin’s_ friend.”

“Only ‘cos they grew up together.” Annie said, stirring her drink absently with a plastic straw. “They’re always arguing nowadays. Armin says he’s fucked in the head.”

“That doesn’t sound like something Armin would say.”

“Yeah, well, he implied it.”

“Can someone catch me up?” Pieck said. “I feel out the loop.”

“Eren and Armin grew up together. Except Armin grew up normal, and Eren’s a psycho.”

“That’s mean.” Reiner grumbled. 

“It’s true, is what it is. You know he keyed Reiner’s car, once?”

There was a chorus of theatrical gasps and uncomfortable laughter.

“He paid for the damages, though.” Reiner said. He felt suddenly defensive of Eren, although he wasn’t sure why.

“That doesn’t matter! He still did it!” Annie slammed her hand on the table. Clearly, she’d already had a few drinks before Reiner had arrived. 

The incident in question had come following an argument about Reiner’s mother, which, when they’d been together, they’d argued about a lot. In a moment of frustration, Reiner had let loose a string of insults relating to Eren’s personality, and the next thing he knew, Eren was storming down to the street below, his housekeys wedged between his knuckles. 

_“You wouldn’t do it.”_ Reiner had told him. Eren had cocked his head, jutting his hand out in a jerky motion, until his key was dragging across the paintwork of Reiner’s car, accompanied by an ear-destroying, screeching noise. Like nails on a chalkboard. Eventually, both of them had collapsed into hysterical apologies. The makeup sex had been good, though. 

“That’s water under the bridge.” Reiner said, knocking back another shot. “Anyway, but Armin still talks to him, doesn’t he?”

“That’s different, though.”

“Is it? How?” Reiner slammed down the third empty glass. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to talk about it.” The truth was, talking about Eren was still painful, and as much as Reiner didn’t want to admit it, even though they hadn’t spoken for two months, he still missed Eren like a phantom limb. 

“To be honest,” Marcel interjected. “I had no idea you were even gay.”

Reiner shrugged. “Yeah, well. I didn’t exactly advertise it in high school. Why, does it bother you?”

“No!” Marcel said quickly. “No, no. Obviously not. I mean, I’m not exactly straight myself…”

“To be fair, it wasn’t exactly obvious.” Bertolt said. “He even had a girlfriend for a year.”

“Yeah. Historia Reiss. And now she’s even more rampantly homosexual than me.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed.” Pieck said. Her dark eyes seemed to tilt down at the corners, giving her a serene, uninterested look. “You seem so… macho.”

“Yeah, well. That’s your heteronormativity speaking.”

“Oooh, he’s busting out the big intersectional words. I’m impressed.”

“I’ve been reading Judith Butler.”

“To be honest,” Annie said, “I didn’t think you could even read.”

Reiner threw a scrunched-up napkin at her. 

“I want a cigarette.” Reiner announced. “Annie, gimme.”

“I can’t. I’ve quit.”

“Fuck’s sake. So selfish.”

Marcel got to his feet, waving a carton of cigarettes in front of Reiner’s eyes. “It’s cool. I got ‘chu.”

* * *

The smoking area was a crowded balcony, staring vacantly over into the empty streets. Red heated lights flooded the area, making Reiner sweat a little under his jacket. 

Marcel offered out his packet of cigarettes, and Reiner took one with a grateful smile. 

“Thanks,” He said, leaning back up against the cement wall. “It smells like wet dirt in here, have you ever noticed?”

“Yeah, well. That’s Haling nightlife for you.”

Reiner studied Marcel for a moment, as the other man lit up. His face had slimmed out as he’d gotten older, revealing a hard, strong jawline shadowed by stubble. 

“I bet you don’t miss it.” Reiner said. 

“Well…” Marcel began, lifting his cigarette to his lips. “I can’t say I really miss it as a place. I miss some of the people, though.”

“Where are you living now?”

“I’m only a couple of counties over. I’m at college right now.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your major?”

“Psych.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna psychoanalyse me?”

“Depends. Only if I’m getting paid. Or if you’re particularly interesting.”

“Guess that means I’d have to pay out of pocket.”

“What? So, you assume you’re not interesting?”

Reiner flushed. “I mean—I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Marcel was looking at the floor, looking vaguely amused. “You’re staring at me.” Marcel said, without looking up. 

“No, I’m not.” Reiner replied, averting his gaze. 

Marcel’s gaze flitted upwards. He was grinning, flashing a row of straight, white teeth. 

“I was just thinking how different you look.” Reiner said, lowering his voice. “That’s all.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I’d say so.”

“I’d say the same for you.” Marcel said, looking him up and down. “You look like a fuckin’ superhero, dude.” He reached out to prod at Reiner’s biceps. “Do you still lift?”

Reiner shrugged. “A little.” He took a toke from his cigarette, wedged between his thumb and forefinger. 

“How modest.” Marcel said, he’d turned towards Reiner, one of his shoulders pressed against the wall. His eyes followed Reiner with slight interest. For a moment, they watched one another, and Marcel leaned towards Reiner, his hand moving towards Reiner’s cheek. Instinctively, Reiner moved away and Marcel’s hand fell back to his side. He flashed Reiner a dopey smile, but Reiner could tell he felt wounded. 

“Is it like, a Scott Pilgram situation?” Marcel posed in a mock-karate form. “Do I need to fight all your evil exes?”

“Nah. There’s just the one.”

“Sounds like a real piece of work.”

Reiner sighed, leaning back and blowing smoke up into the air above him. 

“The thing is,” he began weakly, “he isn’t a bad person. I don’t know. Part of it’s his brother, y’know, I think he enables him. He encourages the bad behaviour. It’s—” Reiner stopped himself. “Sorry. I know you probably don’t want to hear about this.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You should. I mean, I barely know you.”

“I’d like to though,” Marcel said. “Know you, I mean. You seem cool. You’re pretty hot, too.” Judging from his expression, Reiner’s face hadn’t been encouraging. “Unless you’re not interested in that…”

“No! No. I mean—” Reiner stammered, “I don’t—I don’t really know...”

“That sounds… ambiguous.”

“It’s the truth, though. I don’t know. I just—I’m in a weird place, right now.”

“Does it have anything to with the infamous Eren?”

“I mean, partially. I guess. We only broke up two months ago.”

Marcel smiled crookedly. “I guess it was rough, then?”

“…Yeah. You could say that.”

The truth was, he still found himself thinking about Eren all of the time—logically, he knew that getting back with him would be a disaster, but that didn’t stop him yearning to feel arms encircling him once more, nor did it stop him thinking wistfully back to the best memories they’d had together. There was also that insecure, self-loathing voice in his head that told him that nobody would ever love him with the same intensity ever again. 

“Well,” Marcel said, “if you feel like taking your mind off it, drop me a text.”

* * *

  
When Reiner arrived back home, it was just a few minutes before midnight. The odds of his mother still being awake were split down the middle; sometimes she went to bed early, smacked out of her mind, other times, she stayed up with a bottle of wine watching television.

Truth be told, Karina Braun didn’t really have many friends. When Reiner was younger, while his father had still lived with them, he vaguely remembered older women visiting the house to talk with Karina, but as his father had grown more paranoid, the stream of women had narrowed to a trickle, until, eventually, the house had felt bereft; more like a two-person prison, guarded by a single jailer. Even after his father had disappeared, the female friends had never reappeared.

For this reason, Reiner was surprised to see a man he didn’t recognise at their kitchen table. 

“Um.” He started, letting his backpack drop to the floor. “Hello?”

“Y’alright, boy?” The man said. He was stout and scruff-necked, with a pair of beady, blue eyes. The air stunk of beer and tobacco.

“Not to sound rude, but… who are you?”

The man grinned. “I’m your mama’s friend.”

At that moment, his mother appeared from the bathroom. Her face was flushed, her hair in disarray. 

“Reiner,” she said briskly. “Where have you been?”

“I told you. I went out with my friends.”

“You said you’d be back by eleven.”

“Yeah. Eleven to twelve. You didn’t have a problem with that at the time.”

Karina sat down across from the unknown man, reaching for the half-empty bottle of wine left on the middle of the table. “If I called Annie’s dad, would he say the same thing?”

“Yes, he would.” Reiner snapped. “Mom, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Don’t talk to your mama like that.” The man grunted. 

“I’m not—” Reiner stopped himself. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

“You better have not been out with that Arab boy.”

“Don’t call him that, I told you.” He turned to look at his mother, attempting to meet her gaze, noticing how foggy her eyes appeared. “Are you high?”

“Huh? What you got an attitude for?”

“I haven’t got an attitude.” Reiner said, feeling the irritation rapidly building and snowballing within him. It was moments like this that made him understand Eren more than ever—why he seemed so disillusioned with people, why he was so uninterested in trying to understand people who never tried to understand him. “I’m going to bed.”

He stormed past his mother and the anonymous man, walking quickly enough as to not let her, or her male companion, get another word in. He slammed the door behind him, not entirely on purpose, although he didn’t regret it, either. 

Reiner collapsed onto his bed, feeling a sudden rush to his head. He hadn’t realised quite how inebriated he was until now, lying back in bed, his head spinning. He’d left before anybody else, cautious not to upset Karina—although it had made no difference in the end. 

While he lay back in his bed, over the covers, still fully-clothed—he felt it. That indescribable sensation, again. Or, more directly—a lack of sensation, a kind of hopelessness that would overcome him with increasing frequency. It was as if, a few months prior, a switch in his brain had flipped, draining all of his interest and feeling with it. There, lying back and staring at the ceiling, he felt himself circle the drain.

From the living room, the sound of his mother’s laughter drifted through. Reiner pulled his pillow over his face, trying to force himself to fall asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I love to hear you guys' feedback <3 <3


	5. august, 2012 // september, 2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a shorter chapter this time, but it's necessary for the plot development

_August, 2012_  
  
Eren loathed the smell of hospitals; he hated the sterile, chemical smell that seemed so inescapable, he hated the omnipresence of death, but most of all he hated the hustle and bustle of urgency of it all. Hospitals reminded of the few memories he had of his mother, where life had trickled from her day by day. By the end, Eren remembered looking down at her, and being amazed she was still alive at all.

“I was so worried.” Reiner said. He was sat hunched over his mother’s bedside; his hands intertwined with hers. Ms. Braun was a wispy woman, with papery skin that crinkled around her eyes and mouth. Her features were similar enough to Reiner’s—they shared the same square jaw and straight, long noses, along with the same sandy hair and hazel eyes. Still, while Reiner had an amiable, approachable air about him, something about Ms. Braun seemed fragile, like a strong gust of wind might blow her away. She was laying back in her hospital bed, a mug of weak instant coffee at her side, her leg hoisted upwards. 

“It’s just my leg,” Ms. Braun reached forward to pat her cast. “It was so silly… I just ended up slipping on some spilt water, is all.”

“Still,” Reiner continued, not letting go of her hand. “When I got that call… I’m not gonna lie, I thought the worst had happened.”

Ms. Braun smiled up at her son, then reached forward to pinch his cheek. Reiner swatted her hand away, although Eren could tell he didn’t really mind. “You’re like me.” She said softly. “You get neurotic.” Her eyes flitted towards Eren—suddenly cautious. “Had me wonder what y’all were getting up to.”

“We went for a drive.” Reiner explained.

“Oh yeah? Any girls involved?”

Reiner laughed weakly. “Nah, it ain’t like that.” 

Ah. So, she didn’t know. Eren couldn’t really fault Reiner for that—it wasn’t as if he’d ever had to go through that kind of experience—by the time that question had even popped up in his mind, his parents had been five years dead. He doubted they would have cared; from what he’d heard, they’d both been liberal, true-blue types. Not that he could vouch for any of that—he barely remembered them.

“I don’t believe that.” Ms. Braun said, with a short laugh. “Couple of handsome boys like you. What happened to that nice blond girl, anyway?”

“What, you mean Historia? We broke up a while ago.”

“Oh, sweetie, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It ain’t that serious. We just weren’t meant to be.”

“That’s a shame honey,” she squeezed his hand. “I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.” Her eyes flitted towards Eren, cooling slightly. “How do you two know each other, anyway?”

“High school.” 

“I see. And what do you do Eren? Are you in college?”

“No ma’am.” Eren said. It was the first time Ms. Braun had addressed him since him and Reiner had arrived. “I work.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with that. If you ask me, those places are a waste of money.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Ms. Braun’s attention returned back to Reiner. “Would you turn on the television, honey?”

“Sure.” There was no evidence of a remote anywhere in sight, so Reiner stood up to turn the TV on manually. The television flickered on and CNN began to drone on, until Reiner hurriedly changed the channel to something random—to what appeared to be a British nature documentary. 

“I hope they’re taking care, mom.” 

“Yeah, they treat me nice.” Ms. Braun eyed the half-open door, at one of the sleekly dressed doctors walking past. “A little too nice.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing really. I just worry about how I’m gonna pay the bill. In my current economic situation, y’know…”

“Don’t worry about that. I can cover you.” 

Ms. Braun wrinkled her nose. “You can’t, Reiner. Not on your current wage…”

“It’s fine, mom. I have savings.”

Ms. Braun bit a thin lip, staring blankly at the TV. Eren could see green leaves and azure skies reflected in her eyes. “I can pay you back, when I get a job…”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

Ms. Braun didn’t meet his gaze, but reached out to squeeze Reiner’s hand. Eren could tell she was embarrassed, from the way she avoided looking at Reiner straight on. He still felt a little awkward standing there—even a little voyeuristic. It felt like a personal, familial moment that Eren wasn’t supposed to see. 

“When are you gonna be able to come home?”

“They say in the next few days. The doctor’s going to send me home with a prescription, to keep the pain away. They get me real dopey, though…”

“I’m just glad it was nothing… you know. Major. I was really worried.”

“You think too poorly of me, Reiner.”

Reiner’s initial panic had transferred onto Eren through a kind of osmosis, especially before they’d actually arrived, and Reiner had still been afraid his mother was in genuine mortal danger. For once, as they drove back to Haling, Reiner hadn’t chided Eren for driving too fast. The anxiety in the car had been palpable; normally, Eren was pretty good at distancing himself from other people’s feelings. It had been significantly more difficult a few years ago, when he’d had much more difficulty managing even his own emotions. Still, he found distancing himself from Reiner’s feelings difficult. Now, he was left awkwardly hanging in the doorway, hands plunged in his pockets. 

“Imma go to the convenience store real quick.” Eren announced, itching to get out of there, and, more importantly, itching for a cigarette. “Do you want anything, Ms. Braun?”

“No thank you, Eren.”

“I’ll come with you.” Reiner said, getting to his feet. He looked exhausted. “I think I need to stretch my legs.”

“Will you be coming back?” Ms. Braun asked, not letting go of Reiner’s hand. 

“Of course. We’ll only be ten minutes.”

Eren and Reiner stalked down the labyrinthine hospital hallways in silence—almost as if they feared Ms. Braun might be listening in on their conversation, even from the other side of the building. They passed half-empty rows of beds, seating areas filled with throngs of grey-faced family members, finally reaching the glass-panelled lobby.  
It was then, once they’d stepped outside of the building, that Reiner finally said something. The night air was colder than it had been when they first arrived, and Eren started to wish he’d brought his jacket from the car. The sky was a curious purple colour—the normal navy colour clogged with pollution and dust.

“Sorry I panicked so much.” Reiner said. “I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything.” Eren could see his muscles were still tensed, as if he expected another terrible thing to happen at any moment. 

“It’s alright. You were worried something really bad had happened. I get that.” Eren reached for his packet of cigarettes. For once, Reiner didn’t ask for one. “I assume your mom doesn’t know…” He wiggled his eyebrows, hoping Reiner would catch his drift. Even saying it out loud, outside of the hospital, felt wrong. Like somebody might be listening in on their conversation.

“No.” Reiner said, as they crossed the road. The nearest twenty-four-hour convenience store was just down the road. 

“How do you think she’d react? If she knew?”

Reiner was silent for a few seconds, his eyes searching the near-empty road. “I don’t know.” He said, eventually. “That’s what worries me.” He didn’t seem to want to elaborate, so Eren left it.

“Never realised you were such a mama’s boy.”

Reiner shrugged. “Me and my mom have always been close.”

“That’s cool.” Eren feared that if he talked too much, his own jealousy of Reiner’s relationship with his mother would bleed through. Throughout his life, he tended to find that the more he spoke, the more trouble he would get into. As a result, a lot of the time he found it easier to just stay quiet. 

“I just worry about her, sometimes. I dunno. It’s always been like that, even when I was a kid. I think it’s ‘cos of my dad, you know. He was always beating on her when I was a kid.”

Eren flicked his cigarette into the gutter, watching it sizzle in a puddle of rain.  
They ducked inside the convenience store. Eren picked up a soda and sandwich and stopped by the tobacco counter to pick up a fresh pack of American Spirits. He met Reiner back at the entrance, who was draining a bottle of water. 

“I’m going to head home now.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I have work in a few hours.” Eren lied, feeling that he needed an excuse. In reality, he couldn’t stand to be around Reiner and his mother any longer. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what exactly it was about Ms. Braun that made him uncomfortable, only that her eyes seemed to harden somewhat when she looked at him, or how she often spoke to Reiner like Eren wasn’t there. "Need to get a little sleep."

“Well, I hope it goes alright.”

“As alright as Levi will ever let it be.”

“I think I’ll just stay here with my mom for a while.” Reiner said, with a bland smile.

“Yeah, that’s cool. Text me when you’re free, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Eren waved Reiner goodbye. Normally, he might kiss Reiner goodbye, but instead, all the two of them could manage was a curt nod. For a moment, he watched Reiner disappear back into the building, taking slow drags from his cigarette.

* * *

  
  
When Eren got home, amazingly, Zeke was still up. 

“You’re back late.” Zeke said, when Eren came through the door. “You been out drinking?”

“Kinda.” Eren threw his backpack across the floor. “How come you’re still up?”  
Zeke was sat on the sofa, staring at his laptop, a lit cigarette between his lips. Around him were scattered papers, open-books and a crammed-full ashtray. “I’ve been working on a story.”

“Oh yeah? Anything interesting?”

“It’s a murder case. Some sick fuck who killed his girlfriend.” Zeke worked for one of the local state papers, reporting crime. Most of the stuff wasn’t particularly interesting—although occasionally a case that enraptured him, keeping him up all night, with the vigour of a wild obsessive. He would examine those cases with surgical disinterest, casually relaying the grizzly details to Eren on the rare occasions they ate together. He was generally aloof and preferred to remain absorbed in his work; he was like their father in that sense, although Zeke would never admit that. 

“What happened?”

“He killed her then burned the house down. Presumably to get rid of the evidence.”

“No way that would work.”

“Well… it kinda did. He was found guilty of arson but was acquitted for homicide. Lack of evidence.”

“Nah, no way…”

“That’s exactly what happened. He’s only getting six years.”

Eren strode over to the fridge, getting himself a Stella from the bottom shelf. “If I were to kill someone,” he started, cracking his beer open, “I wouldn’t even bother trying to get away with it.”

Zeke snorted, lighting another cigarette. When Eren had first moved in with him, the constant smell of stale tobacco had bothered him, but as with Zeke’s other eccentricities, Eren had gotten used to it. “You don’t mean that.”

“I’m serious. If I were to kill someone, I’d just face the music. I reckon if I cared enough about someone to kill them, I could handle facing the consequences.”

“What? Life in prison?” Zeke tapped ash off the end of the cigarette. “Even the death penalty?”

“As I say, if I cared enough about that person to kill ‘em, I wouldn’t mind getting the chair.”

“You have funny idea of what caring about someone is.”

Eren took a long sip of his beer, momentarily pensive. “Isn’t it the ultimate flattery? Getting murdered? Someone must really want you gone.”

“Anyone ever told you that you’ve got a weird sense of humour?”

Eren shrugged. “Once or twice.”

* * *

  
  
_September, 2018_  
  
Eren’s fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, trying to will his heart to slow down. Briefly, he examined his own reflection in the rear-view mirror; his eyes had a wild quality about them, hollow, even, ringed with red from hours of crying. He hadn’t even known what precisely that was overwhelming him so much, only that it felt like enough to burn the whole town to the ground. 

As he approached the centre of town, he noticed how empty the streets seemed—there was something desolate about it, he thought. It was dry and dust-ridden, a hot wind blowing through the streets, only the faintest outline of the moon visible through the clouds.

Eren already knew the direction he was going in; it was a route he knew off by heart, long since etched into his brain.

Down the main road. Turn left. Turn right, then right again. Reiner’s place sat of the edge of town, out of the way of the bulk of residential housing and shops, in an old semi-detached house broken up into apartments, staring over the building site of a half-finished high-rise.

Eren turned left, his heart hammering against his ribcage. Sitting in the vacant passenger seat was a bottle full of gasoline, and in his pockets were a book of matches and a penknife.   
He cruised down shabby rows of houses, towards the junction on the corner. If he turned right, the roads would lead him down a variety of narrow roads leading out of town, whereas if he turned left, he’d be lead towards the town’s main square, where the more expensive houses were lined. Eren stopped at the red light, breathing heavily. His hand hovered on the indicator.

The light turned amber, then green. Through the dust-choked air, and in Eren’s semi-lucid state of mind, the light seemed effervescent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed. as always, I love to hear you guys' feedback. thank you to astroplants for beta-ing this chapter for me <3


	6. january, 2013

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. My personal life has been absolute shambles recently. Thanks to Astroplants for beta-ing, and go check out their ererei fic Isle of Dogs, it's amazing x

“Jesus, Eren. Slow the hell down. You’re twenty over the speed limit.”

“Am I?” The sound of jagged nails tapping against the handbrake cut through the air. “Sorry. Didn’t notice.”

“Somehow,” Jean muttered from the back seat, his face lit up by the muddy blue of his phone. “I doubt that.”

“We’re already fucked if we get pulled over.” Mikasa said, with a huff of disapproval. Her mulberry lip-gloss caught the glint of the evening sun. She turned around to face Armin; the lack of adequate room in the car meant Annie was sitting unceremoniously on his lap, resulting in Armin appearing thoroughly embarrassed. “Having people sitting on each other is illegal.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Jean grumbled. “I can’t tell you how uncomfortable I feel.”

“We’re not doing anything!” Armin protested. “We didn’t have another option.”

“I ‘spose you could always have Reiner on your lap, Jean.”

“Ha-fucking-ha.”

“If you ask me,” Eren said cracking the window open. “This would all be much easier if we’d just left Jean behind.”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole. You’re the one trying to get us killed.”

“Get you killed? How?”

“Burning alive in a highly preventable car crash.”

“What are you talking about?” Eren said airily, pushing his sunglasses off his face. “I’m a great driver.”

“Ha! What a joke. I can’t tell you how many red lights I’ve seen you run.” Reiner could feel every one of Jean’s movements; sandwiched between him, Armin and Annie.

“I still don’t understand why Mikasa couldn’t have gone in the middle.” Jean complained, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “She’s smaller than me.”

“Someone’s gotta stop Eren from running down pedestrians.” Mikasa said.

“Maybe some of them deserve it.” Eren added.

“You’re a danger to society.”

They were all driving to nearest big city for the evening—for a club night Annie had bought tickets for. Fortunately, she’d also been able to snag them all some fake IDs, too. 

Eren hadn’t said anything, but Reiner could tell he was pleased to spend some time with Armin and Mikasa; although the three of them were still in contact, Eren had confided in Reiner that he missed the days when they’d been younger, when the three of them had been virtually inseparable. 

They’d been driving for at least six hours now, but amazingly, the conversation hadn’t petered out yet, as with most long car drives. Perhaps this had been made easier by the bottle of Jack Daniels Jean had whipped out at the start of the trip, still steadily rotating around the group, with the exception of Eren. They’d even rented out a motel a few minutes from the club, so none of them had to stay sober for the journey home. For once, Reiner allowed himself to feel excited. 

“You know,” Reiner said. “I’ve never been clubbing.”

“Armin’s the same. To be honest, you’re not missing out on a lot.” Annie said, her legs jutting out into the back of the driver’s seat. “Most clubs are terrible. But me and Hitch went to this place a few months back, and it was great.”

“Probably partially due to the fact that you were rolling hard.”

“Yeah, we were. And I’ll be doing it again, asshole.” Earlier Annie had flashed Reiner her clear baggie of pills—each garishly coloured—like bright, powdery jewels.

“I think I’m alright sticking with alcohol.” Armin added sheepishly. 

“You sure?” Eren grinned at the rear-view mirror, catching Armin’s eye. “I think it would be pretty hilarious. Watching you get drunk for the first time was entertaining enough.”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

Eren snorted. “Obviously not. How could I ever? All it took was three cans of cider and you were—”

“Alright, alright. You don’t need to go into it again. We’ve all heard the story.”

“I haven’t.” Reiner said. 

“Well, basically—”

“Do we need to do this again, Eren?” Armin groaned. His hands were splayed awkwardly at his sides, seemingly doing everything in his power to not touch Annie in any way that could be perceived as sexual. “It’s like I said, we’ve all heard it. And every time you tell it, I want to crawl under a rock and die of shame.”

They were getting closer to the city now, and Reiner could see the blinking lights on the horizon. All of their gazes seemed to settle collectively on the glittering city ahead: it seemed vast and shimmering against the stark planes of the empty fields.

“Hey, Annie.” Eren said. “How many of those pills you got?”

“Five. Why?”

“I’ll give you ten bucks for two of them.”

“…Make that fifteen.”

“Deal.”

“What? Since when do you do drugs?”

“I don’t do drugs, Mikasa. You make it sound like I’m shooting up heroin on the side of the road.”

Mikasa opened her mouth, apparently ready to snipe back, before sealing her lips shut. She turned away, forehead pressed flush against the windowpane. 

“Have you tried them before?” Reiner asked Eren, cautious. 

“What? Molly? Once or twice.” Eren’s gaze remained fixed on the road, for once. “Haven’t you?”

“No.” Reiner had taken the odd puff of a joint at various parties, but the harder stuff had never interested him. The more glamorous means of self-destruction had never held the same allure to him as they did to others. “What’s it like?”

Eren shrugged, pulling off the freeway, one arm dangling out the half-open window. “I dunno. It just feels nice. You just feel happy and you wanna dance.”

“How about you, Mikasa?” Annie asked. “Can I tempt you to the dark side?”

Mikasa wrinkled her nose, still not looking at them. “No thanks. Not for me.”

“Reiner?” Annie leaned over Jean to prod Reiner in the shoulder. “How about you?”

“I don’t know.” Temptation curled against Reiner’s chest; perhaps it had been the breeziness with which Eren had asked for it.

“Maybe. How much would you give one of them to me for?”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” Eren said. “Why do you think I got two?”

* * *

Inside, music pulsated, drinks were spilled, neon lights stalking across the walls in a kaleidoscope of colour: pink, red, violet and orange, eventually intertwining into one, singular white light. Reiner had already been pleasantly tipsy from the Jack Daniels before he’d come inside, and as soon as they’d gotten to the bar, Eren had ordered them all vodka lemonades. They’d both taken their pills before entering, cautious that they might get searched on the door. Reiner didn’t really feel anything yet, aside from his heart rate quickening and every colour seeming a little more saturated than normal. 

Annie had also forced four shots of cheap, fruit flavoured vodka down Mikasa, who’s cheeks were suddenly red and covered with a film of sweat. She was dancing with Eren, who had one arm looped around her waist, the other wrapped around a plastic cup.

They moved as one, splashes of lemonade sloshing to the floor. Armin and Annie had disappeared someplace else, leaving Reiner at the bar with Jean.

“I take it you’re not really into dancing either?” Jean said, taking small sips of whisky.

“Not really. I’m not nearly drunk enough.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and see that later tonight.” Jean said, smirking. Over that past year or so, Jean had overcome a great deal of his adolescent awkwardness; the constellations of acne had cleared from his face, his jaw had sharpened, and he’d invested in a vastly superior haircut. Although he maintained his trademark irreverence, it had mellowed out into something more easy-going and endearing. 

“If you do get to see it, you better be appreciative.” Reiner told him. “It’s a rare sight.”

Jean’s gaze travelled across the dancefloor, towards where Eren and Mikasa were giggling; at one point, Eren pulled Mikasa in by the hand and twirled her around. Mikasa’s hair, cropped short around her ears, gave her an almost angelic look, especially now, with her thick eyelashes and glistening eyes. 

Jean sighed. “She’s breath-taking.” He said, over the rim of his second drink. He watched Mikasa with the kind of forlorn sadness that didn’t look right on the face of someone his age.

“I mean, she’s single, isn’t she?” Reiner asked tentatively.

“There’s no way I have a chance.”

“Have you tried talking to her?” 

Jean rolled his eyes. “I mean, clearly she’s more interested in somebody else.”

“What?” Reiner followed Jean’s gaze. “Eren?”

Jean huffed. “God, Reiner. You’re nearly as dense as he is.”

Reiner watched Mikasa, who was in the process of whispering something in Eren’s ear. A smile crept at her lips, as Eren collapsed into laughter. “I had no idea.” He told Jean. Sure, he’d noted the closeness that seemed implicit in Eren and Mikasa’s relationship, although it hadn’t initially struck him as romantic. Now, though, it seemed so obvious.

“It’s obvious to anybody who knows her well. She’s crazy about him, and I have no idea why. I mean…” Jean gestured vaguely in

Reiner’s direction. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Perhaps Jean was right—maybe he really was as dense as Eren.

“I don’t think she’s going to get over it any time soon, either. No matter how many men Eren fucks.”

“What?” Reiner raised an eyebrow. “Does Eren fuck loads of guys, then?” He asked, only half-joking.

Jean took a moment to consider. “Now I think about it, just you, I guess.” He paused to drink. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie. I was kinda pleased when he said you two were a thing. ‘Cos I always assumed there had to be a part of him that liked her back. I mean, look at her.”

“Sure.” There was certainly a sensual appeal to Mikasa—all long pale legs and inky hair. “If you’re into that kind of thing.”

“You dated Historia, right? I mean, she was _smoking_.”

“Yeah. I always thought she was cute and nice… I guess at the time that felt like a good enough reason to ask her out. Anyway, it turned out she was screwing the captain of the women’s volleyball team.”

Jean grimaced. “Ouch.”

“I wasn’t actually that bothered about it at the time. I remember thinking that I should have been upset, but all I felt was relief.” Reiner took a tentative sip of his drink. “I suppose that should have been a pretty definitive sign…” The pill was doing something now; Reiner’s heart was beating hard enough that it felt as if his chest were about to burst. His eyes were opened wide, blinking, absorbing his surroundings—it felt too perfect to be real. Like a dream. 

“You alright?” Jean asked. “You look confused.”

“…I feel good.” 

“Yeah,” Jean said, seemingly amused. “That’ll be the drugs.”

Moments later, Eren had appeared at his side, slipping his hand into Reiner’s. “C’mon,” he murmured in his ear. “We’re going out for a cigarette.”

He pulled Reiner across the dancefloor, threading through the faceless crowd. Eren’s grip on his hand tightened, Jean’s presence somewhere behind him. The air outside was cool and refreshing, the breeze ruffling slightly at Eren’s hair. Reiner found himself fixated on the stray strands brushing against the nape of his neck—out of nowhere, he pulled Eren towards him. 

Eren blinked up at him—his pupils were blown so wide his irises looked black and impenetrably matte. His face was close to Reiner’s, close enough that if Reiner were to lean a few inches forward, he could press his lips against his. 

“You good?” Eren said, grinning. He took short, shallow inhales from his cigarette. 

“Yeah.” Reiner was smiling, unsure of quite why. Suddenly, he felt overcome by affection for Eren; for his smile, his sense of humour, his eyes, his voice, his body—it became overwhelming to think about it all at once—enough to suffocate him in infatuation.

“What is it?” Eren asked.

“Nothing,” Reiner said, “I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

He’d never said it before. It had been bubbling up inside him, and he hadn’t even taken a moment to examine that feeling until now. They’d been seeing one another for five, nearly six months—but it had always seemed casual—somewhere between friends-with-benefits and boyfriend. 

“You don’t mean that.” Eren said thinly. “You’re on drugs.”

“Sure, I am. But that doesn’t make it any less true.” Eren looked up at him; his gaze was scrutinising, almost disbelieving. Reiner reached for Eren’s cheek, pulling him towards him. He felt giddy with desire when Eren’s lips moved against his, his hand tracing up Reiner’s forearm. “Please, just say it back.”

Eren looked away. “I love you too.”

“Alright,” Reiner breathed. Eren’s hand was still ghosting over his forearm, the tips of his fingers brushing against the miniscule hairs, making Reiner shiver. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Eren said, his voice breathy. “I guess it is.”

“Alright, you two.” It was Annie, Armin hovering behind her. She held a cigarette in her fingers, the smoke steadily climbing the night air. “Break it up.”

Reiner couldn’t help but grin at her, especially considering the gratuitous amounts of PDA she and Armin exhibited in the early stages of their relationship. “Why?”

“You got the molly love.”

“What does that even mean?”

Annie finished her cigarette, while Eren shared his with Reiner. After they were all finished, they returned to the murky depths of the club’s interior. 

For a while, Reiner felt happy enough to dance with Eren; even now, he wasn’t quite at the level of many of the people around him, who seemed to writhe against one another with unadulterated carnal desire. From the corner of his eye, he could see Armin sheepishly dancing with Annie. On impulse, he pulled Eren closer to him, Eren’s hands finding his waist, the near-contact enough to make Reiner want to grab him and kiss him hard enough to expel all the air from his lungs.

Reiner would have liked to stay there forever, but it only took a couple of minutes before Mikasa appeared at Eren’s side, tugging him away, apparently trying to tell him something. 

She pulled Eren out of the crowd; Reiner might have followed them, but judging from the look on Mikasa’s face, she preferred the content of their conversation to remain private. 

Instead, Reiner moved towards the bar. He expected Jean to still be there, but he seemed to have been absorbed into the throngs of sweating bodies. 

Reiner drained the rest of his drink, slamming the empty cup down on the bar. He caught the eye of the bartender, gesturing for another. The bartender reappeared a moment later and slid another drink towards Reiner. Reiner nodded in thanks, fumbling for his wallet. 

“Don’t worry about it,” a voice said. Reiner looked up, noticing for the first time a man at his side, his eyes fixated on Reiner’s. He was tall and olive-skinned, hunched over the bar somewhat awkwardly, wiry stubble shadowing his narrow jaw. “I got you.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The guy took a sip of his own drink. “I’m Cal, by the way.”

“Reiner.”

“What brings you here, anyway, Reiner?” 

Reiner shrugged. “Just came here with friends.”

“With your girlfriend?”

“Oh, nah…” He laughed nervously. “Not really my thing.”

Cal nodded. “That’s cool. Not really mine, either…”

Reiner felt a hand on his forearm. He turned around to see Eren standing behind him, looking a little more deflated than he had when Reiner had last seen him. 

“I couldn’t find you,” Eren said. He was panting, slightly, as if he’d been running. His gaze shifted to Cal. “Can I help you?”

“Just talking to your friend, man. No need to get so aggressive.”

“I’m aggressive?” Eren’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you so defensive, anyway?”

“Eren, give it a rest.” It wasn’t out of character for Eren to try and start fights for no good reason, but Reiner wasn’t in the mood to dab blood off his nose in a public bathroom.

“What, is he your boyfriend or something?” Cal asked. He’d gotten to his feet by now, standing a few inches over Eren.

“I know you’re not tryna get in my face. I’ll beat your ass. Swear to God.”

Cal snorted. “You trying to threaten me?”

“Eren, just leave it.” Reiner interjected; Eren had taken a step closer, and although he was shorter than Cal, he was significantly less wiry. 

“I’ll kick your skinny ass if you get any closer, I don’t give a fuck.”

Cal looked over at Reiner with a sardonic smile. “You got a real keeper here.”

“The fuck did you say?”

“Eren.” This time, Reiner grabbed him by the wrist. He was beginning to panic. “Chill the fuck out.”

Eren didn’t look at him, his attention zeroed in on Cal. “Nah, stop looking at me like that.”

“So, I’m not allowed to look at you now? The fuck is your problem, anyway? We were just talking.”

“Eren.” Reiner repeated, more urgently this time. “Just chill out. Please. You’ll get us kicked out.”

“Fucking pussy.” Eren spat. 

“Eren!” This finally got his attention—his eyes snapping suddenly to Reiner. “Can you please just calm down?”

Eren’s hand had been placed on the bar, dangerously close to where Cal was stood. He blinked up at Reiner, looking momentarily guilty; like a kid who’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

“Sorry.” He said, his voice barely audible over the music.

After a second, his hand wrapped tight around Reiner’s elbow, pulling him in an indeterminate direction, throwing Cal a final, withering look. Reiner closed his eyes momentarily, allowing Eren to guide him, the room feeling as if it were spinning beneath his feet. When he did open his eyes, Eren's hand had disappeared from his arm. Eren was gesturing to him, beckoning him inside the men’s toilet.

Fortunately, it was just a singular room, the walls covered in a variety of colourful posters, some of which had been vandalised with knife-etchings and ineligible scrawls.

Before Reiner could say anything, like ask Eren why he had to get so aggressive over nothing, or why he’d nearly got them kicked out for starting a fight, Eren’s lips were against his, desperate, his fingers threading through Reiner’s hair. Reiner tried to say something, but all that came out was a pathetic groan. The pill had definitely done something to enhance his libido, and the feeling of Eren’s burning skin against his palm made his heart race.

His hand travelled down from Eren’s ribs to the soft flesh of his thigh. At first, his touch was gentle, before his grip began to tighten, moving straight to Eren’s crotch. 

“Stop teasing,” Eren said gruffly, pulling away from the kiss. Reiner moved backwards, wanting to examine his face in its entirety: the flushed, tan skin, the dilated pupils and pink lips. “I’m horny as fuck.”

“I can tell.”

“Like you’re any different.”

“What the hell was that, anyway?” He began fumbling with the buckle of Eren’s belt, suddenly finding his fingers refused to obey his brain’s commands. When it did eventually come apart, Reiner dropped to his knees, taking him into his mouth. 

“I don’t—” Eren started, groaning, his head falling back against the wall with a slight thump, fingers running with uncharacteristic gentleness through Reiner’s hair. 

There was a sharp knock on the door, making both of them flinch. Eren’s hips jutted momentarily forwards, his cock briefly hitting the back of Reiner’s throat. 

“Hey, who’s in there?” A man’s voice said, from the other side of the door. “You’re taking forever.”  
Eren bit his lip, his eyes flitting downwards, meeting Reiner’s head on. There was another knock, more forceful this time. “Hey! Hurry the fuck up!” More pounding at the door. Eventually, Reiner caught the sound of a heavy sigh. There was another knock, then nothing. 

“Fuck, stop.” Eren muttered, dragging Reiner’s head back. “I’m gonna come.”

Reiner got back to his feet. The knees of his trousers were scuffed. He met Eren for another kiss, letting his tongue slip briefly between his lips. 

“Just do it.” Eren breathed. Reiner didn’t need any more prompting, roughly turning Eren so his face was pushed into the wall. He tugged his trousers down—the belt buckle making a metallic clink as it hit the ground. His hands briefly groped Eren’s ass, fumbling in his pocket for some Vaseline—the closest he had to a lubricant. 

“Don’t bother with prepping.” Eren muttered.

“Why? It’ll hurt.”

“I don’t care.”

Normally, Reiner might have tried to mitigate some of Eren’s more masochistic tendencies, but right now, he was too horny to care. When he pushed inside, Reiner couldn’t help but let out a low, guttural groan. He stepped backwards, slightly, pulling Eren’s hips with him; Eren’s arm fell forward, supporting himself. Reiner slammed back forward, moulding his torso against Eren’s back, his arm wrapping around his ribcage. Reiner pressed his lips against his neck. 

“Don’t you dare go slow,” Eren whispered, “there isn’t even much time.”

Reiner started thrusting quickly; almost immediately, the pleasure felt like enough to bring him to orgasm. He slowed down, at least marginally, wanting to make it last as long as he feasibly could. Impulsively, while stroking Eren’s hair, Reiner began to tug at it, pulling Eren’s head back with it. 

“Shit…” Reiner hissed. His hand wrapped around Eren’s dick; it only took a few tugs before he came against the wall, collapsing forward with a moan. Reiner followed just a few minutes after, pulling out with a satisfied huff. 

Eren fumbled to pull his pants back up, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sheen of sweat off his brow. 

“Promise me,” he said, panting and pulling his hair back up, which had slipped out of its bun. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.”  
Reiner stared at him; for a moment, it was if the club around them, the city, the county—had vanished—leaving just the two of them behind. The only two people in the world. 

“I promise.” He whispered.

In that moment, it felt like the truth.

* * *

Reiner arrived back at home in the early afternoon of the following day. The house was uncharacteristically tidy; for some reason, his mother had elected to finally give the place a clean, open the curtains and even crack open one or two of the windows. The little amount of fresh air made the place seem, at least slightly, fresher and cleaner. She’d cleaned the dust-caked counters and bookshelves, and judging from the sterile smell of apples, wiped down the surfaces with some kind of antibacterial spray.  
The daylight made the room appear so much bigger; for once, coming home hadn’t felt like being suffocated by his own poverty. When he opened the fridge, he found she’d even cleared out the arrays of mouldy food and half-open bottles of wine. 

Reiner had woken earlier that day in a tangle of sheets, his arm draped over Eren’s chest. After some prodding, Eren had awoken soon after, eyes bleary. When he’d initially woken up, Reiner had felt a comedown ebbing at his brain; his limbs aching and his throat feeling a little closed-up, but he felt none of the overwhelming depressive symptoms Annie had previously reported. Amazingly, Reiner had still felt the traces of that late-night euphoria pounding through his veins. He still did, even now, standing in the living room of his childhood home. 

The drive back to Haling had been quiet, punctuated only by Jean’s persistent complaints about his hangover. Even Eren hadn’t given into his usual urge to throw jibes at Jean, despite ripe material. He’d said goodbye to Eren with a strange sort of melancholy, as if he wouldn’t be seeing him again for a long time, despite the fact that there would be nothing separating them anytime soon. 

Reiner wandered aimlessly around the living room, admiring the newfound cleanliness. It was only then that he clocked Karina, passed out on the couch, her eyelids trembling slightly, as if in a deep dream. Her dusty hair was splayed out all around her head, like a sandy halo. On impulse, Reiner reached for a ratty blanket left on a chair, draping it over her. The slight pressure must have disturbed her slightly, since her eyes flickered briefly open.

“Reiner?” She asked hoarsely. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Are you alright? Did you and your friends have a good time?”

“Yeah, it was cool.” Reiner was silently pleased that she hadn’t chosen today for one of her sporadic bursts of neurosis, in which any absence Reiner took from her was, overwhelmingly, enough to drive her to her breaking point. It would have put a black spot on his mood—which seemed so much more elevated than normal. 

“That’s nice, honey.” Karina yawned. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I like what you’ve done with the room…”

“Yeah, well… the mess was starting to depress me. Do you want something to eat?”

“It’s fine, mom. You can go back to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, lemme know what you think. I love hearing you guys' predictions for what's gonna happen, and what you think of the way I'm portraying the characters.

**Author's Note:**

> I think the approach I'm gonna take with this fic is shorter chapters but (hopefully) more frequent updates. Hope you guys enjoy.  
> This is partially inspired by all the crazy ex!Eren shit I've been seeing on twitter lately. Like the amazing art by @ColumboDumbo.
> 
> I wanted to depict a relationship in which yes, Eren is pretty yandere (as you will see in the coming chapters) but isn't entirely unrealistic. Hope you guys enjoy. 
> 
> I will be burning in Ererei hell.


End file.
